


The Beauty Is

by jtav



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Artists, F/M, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-05 05:04:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 66,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16804165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jtav/pseuds/jtav
Summary: Sae Niijima was once the beloved Champion of Justice. A fire took that from her, killing her father and leaving her scarred. Yusuke Kitagawa is a lonely boy who only wants her to model for him. Together, they might be able to save each other. But they're going to have to survive yakuza, abusive guardians, and the mental shutdown conspiracy first. Not to mention the demon haunting Sae's nightmares.





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arionette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arionette/gifts).



> An earlier draft of the first three chapters was published as Aesthetics. This story is now complete and will be updated as chapters are edited. Many thanks to Arionette and Felle, without whom this story wouldn't have been finished.

The train on screen twisted and broke as fire filled the windows and travelers beat uselessly on the panes, but it was the soft boom and shatter of glass that broke Sae. The sound filled her brain, driving out the sight of her director, the smell of stale sake, the feel of carpet beneath her feet. There was only the groaning of steel and the feel of flame as the apartment burned around her once more.

Sae sucked in a breath. Not here, not now, when she had spent three years rebuilding her life and proving she belonged in this office. Another breath as cold sweat formed on her temple. She gripped her cane hard enough for the pressure to hurt and concentrated on the throb in her right leg. Pain was her lifeline, a reminder that she was alive in the present and not trapped in a charred building with her father's corpse. She hadn't been able to feel anything then.

Her director didn't seem to have noticed. "The railway company and the Ministry of Transport knew about this months ago. Heads will roll, all the way to the top."

She took more steadying breaths under the guise of thoughtfulness and the present gradually reasserted itself and she was once more in the director's office. The steps outside made it difficult for her to enter, and there would surely be other difficulties, but she was determined to make it _her_ office one day, and to do that she needed to be of use. Not as an avenging angel or icon who promised justice that didn't exist but as a problem solver. What did he need? What the entire government needed: the reason why people lost their minds at the drop of a hat. This was nineteenth case in two years. If a reason wasn't found soon, even career civil servants could find themselves fired.

He was looking at her, searching, expecting a reply. "It's all connected," she said with only the slightest quaver in her voice. "Someone wants to cause chaos. Perhaps to bring down the government. Perhaps for something worse."

"Perhaps." Once his noncommittal response to everything would have infuriated her, but it was better than the treatment most gave her in this office. "You would need proof. Check for patterns and see if you turn up anything." His voice lightened, but it sounded false. "You and I haven't had a chance to go out for drinks. I'll make sure that they serve water."

"No!" Everything seemed louder when she was recovering from a flashback. A bar would be torture. And that was before the five seconds of dead silence that would ensue as the patrons stared at her. "That is, I have another meeting."

"You know, Niijima, there is more to this job than interrogations and trials. Certain social niceties that we endure to make our superiors happy. When I accepted your transfer from Organized Crime, it was with the understanding that you were prepared to undertake the full duties of this position."

Her eyes widened. All those long months of rehab, the painkillers, the reconstructive surgeries, they could not be undone by drinks! "I am, sir."

His eyes glittered the way hers once had when she had been about to spring the trap on still-unsuspecting yakuza bosses. "The Deputy Minister's grandson attends Kosei on an art scholarship and they're holding an exhibit to mark the beginning of the school year. The department directors and a few promising prosecutors are attending to show moral support. I understand you were an art lover. I expect you to be there."

That bastard. But she dared not refuse. Sae bowed as best she could. "Of course, sir. Now, if you'll excuse me."

The steps seemed steeper and the marble floor a longer drop as Sae stared down. Art lover. That was one way to put it. She had been very stupid, once upon a time, and why not? She had been the brilliant and glittering Champion of Justice that the public had looked to to save them from organized crime that was threatening to choke the life from the country, the brilliant and beautiful woman who had appeared on morning talk shows to tell little girls that they too could be lawyers. And she had known it. She had been like a child in a candy store, gobbling up every art piece that took her fancy. And more than one of the artists. She could still remember Benjiro's hands in her hair and the way he had begged for some relief that first night. And she remembered her own smile as she realized that the girl who had rode to school on a hand-me-down bike finally had power.

She took a step down and didn't fall. That was something. The prosecutors on the landing fell silent as she approached. Sae threw her shoulders back and raised her head high as she marched down the remaining stairs. Even when the whispers started up again.

"What were they in their so long. You don't think...?"

"Nah. There's 'dirty old man' and then there's just weird."

"Half of her is still a total babe."

Sae ground her teeth. She had been hearing innuendo like that since middle school when she was at the top of the class. It had never mattered. It didn't matter now. She would climb to the top again and again. As many times as it took.

A boy sat on a bench in the lobby. His school uniform was a stark white in the sea of dark suits. He was tall, even taller than she was, with fine features that looked as if they had been carved from porcelain. Was he a witness? They didn't usually bring minors into the office without a guardian, unless you counted Akechi. He met the curious stares of the prosecutors rushing past with stares of his own. It was a strange sight and infinitely preferable to reliving her trauma or wondering how she was going to manage an art exhibit. Sae found a chair to sit in. Just to rest. For a minute.

It was then that she noticed the sketchbook in his lap. She scowled. Another art student then. And from Kosei, if she remembered the uniform correctly. May he and the deputy minister's grandson have a long life painting dogs or somesuch. Her gaze traveled to his hands folded in his lap. He certainly had the fingers for it: long, pale, and slightly roughened from years of holding a paintbrush or pencil. Curiosity satisfied, Sae gripped her cane to stand.

And then he saw her. His gray eyes snapped into focus as he seized the sketchbook. He all but ripped the pages in his haste to find a blank sheet. Electricity arced from him and pinned her where she was. She knew that look. It was the same look Benjiro and a half-dozen others had worn. She was an inspiration.

His pencil scratched on the paper, unnaturally loud to her sensitized ears. Something sharper than the usual dull ache settled across her skin. The attention she had enjoyed before her father's death hadn't vanished. It had become twisted and perverted. Fetishists leering at her. No doubt the boy he thought capturing her scars would be an interesting technical exercise. Or worse, if the set of his jaw was any indication.

The pain in her leg intensified, warning her. The unfortunate truth was that her energy had to be rationed these days, poured like medication in a measuring cup. This highschooler wasn't worth it. Whatever he created would go no farther than a portfolio he submitted to a teacher that would hopefully give him a long lecture about the proper portrayal of disability in physical media.

"There you are, Yusuke!"

Sae stiffened. She hadn't seen Madarame in person since before the fire, but time had changed him very little. The long hair tied back, the artfully distressed kosode. Even she had to admit _Sayuri_ was the greatest painting of the last fifty years, but the modesty was almost too much. Benjiro, Ayumi, and the other artists of their coterie had been "affronts to tradition." Even Sae herself, with her blazers and refusals to be put in a little box was suspect. Not that tradition had stopped him from sleeping with a Diet member's wife or screaming bloody murder when Sae had had her indicted for money laundering.

"My apologies, Sensei." Yusuke scrambled to his feet and bowed hastily. He gestured at Sae wildly as his voice dropped to a whisper.

Sensei? She decided she felt a little sorry for Yusuke. But of course Madarame and his exploits were no longer her concern. If she were going to rest here for a bit, she might as well make it productive. She fished out her notebook from her bag. A train crash. The Minister of Transport with his head on the chopping block. Who benefited from his fall? Who benefited from the other shutdowns? Look for patterns, her director had said. There were always patterns in these long-lasting criminal enterprises, whether the work of one person or a cabal. There would be a money trail to follow. It was chasing the yakuza all over again. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered.

She inhaled. She bothered because the alternative was being imprisoned at home while others stole glory that should be hers. Proving right every well-meaning physical therapist who had given her a pitying look and told her she would be much happier living off royalties from the Champion of Justice animation. She had two strikes against her now, not just being a woman who had wanted more than marriage and motherhood. Solving the mental shutdowns would silence her detractors forever.

"Excuse me," said a deep voice as Sae felt a presence loom over her.

She looked up. Yusuke's hands were outstretched in supplication. This close, she could see that he was not merely slim, but gaunt. His uniform seemed to hang off him. His eyes though, were possessed of a familiar mania, bright and filled with paintings. She would have followed those eyes around the world once. "Forgive me, but I'm not sure how to begin," he said.

More pain as if to remind her that the woman who would have been enchanted by him was dead. At this rate, she would have to take pain medication tonight. "Don't stammer." She tapped her lapel badge. "You should leave people who are trying to work alone." She couldn't quite keep the snarl from her voice and didn't particularly try. It usually sent gawkers diving for cover.

Not Yusuke. His voice trembled, but he gave no sign of discomfort. "But I can't leave you alone! You are the most extraordinary creature I've seen! Your hands are a part of my search for true beauty!"

As she'd thought: just another deviant looking for something to excite him. "Leave me alone before I—" Sae processed the rest of his speech. "Did you say my hands?"

They looked down at her hands together. Those she had permitted to flatter her for her looks had had so many options that her hands had never received particular attention, but they were pale and unscarred, a hint of what she had been.

"I desire only to capture true beauty. I simply couldn't stay still and silent. You must model for me."

Sae closed her eyes as memory washed over her, unbidden. Hands tugging at her robe. Staring back with a smile because this time the objectification was her choice. Making love afterwords and staring at a finished project in the afterglow. Those who had seen her as only a role model or savior would have been horrified, but she had demanded to be a lover as well. No doubt Madarame would have gotten the vapors just thinking about it. It would be almost amusing to see the look on his protégés face if she told him. _A dead woman_ , she repeated to herself. "No."

"But—"

"Leave her be, Yusuke." Madarame closed the distance to stand beside Yusuke. His smile was warm, his tone just the right note of offended politeness. "The error is mine. He was so taken by you that I have to tell him that you were a great lover of the arts and had provided inspiration to my colleagues in the past." Just for a moment, his smile slipped and in his eyes she saw the hard glint of a predator.

Her eyes narrowed So this was his revenge for the slight against his mistress. There were rumors about what happened to those who crossed him, and great men were the pettiest of all, but she would not be cowed. "You might have told him that I only work with those who earn my trust."

He laughed. "Oh, Yusuke's desires are entirely innocent, aren't they my boy?" He placed a hand on Yusuke's shoulder and Sae wondered if he noticed Yusuke's subtle flinch. "He goes where his desire takes him, searching to grasp something that exists only in dreams."

"Sensei…" Yusuke looked at her. "Please, my mind has been a desert for so long. You must help me."

She stilled. A desert. Another thing this strange boy couldn't know: the long hours staring at the ceiling as she recovered. Desperate to think of something and finding only emptiness. It wasn't the same pain. It couldn't be. He didn't know what it was like to be dead and not dead at the same time. To be abandoned.

_Dead,_ said a small voice within her. _I have been dead. But I would like to be alive._ She had enjoyed being a model. If she were going to be trapped in a body she didn't want with responsibilities she should never have had to bear, shouldn't she try to salvage what she had loved? This strange, pained boy was giving her that chance. "What would you like me to do for you?"

He blinked at her, his mouth partly open. If Madarame hoped to unleash him on the art world, he had to teach him how to better deal with people. But then Yusuke cleared his throat. "Sensei is not wrong when he says that I'm chasing after something that cannot exist. No mortal can embody perfect beauty. But the artist can blend things together to create an ideal for man to strive for." His voice grew faster and louder as he spoke, until other prosecutors were staring.

Sae raised an eyebrow. "So like a collage, with me as the hands?"

"Exactly." He thought for a moment. "Well, not exactly. I don't want to cut your hands off."

The art press was going to eat him alive.

But Yusuke seemed just as oblivious to the spectators as he did her attempts to get him to go away. "I only wish to do some sketches. A few hours of your time at most. We can work anywhere you like. I have no money for a modeling fee, but you would be doing both me and art a tremendous service. I would be willing to do almost anything to repay you."

Hands. He only wanted her hands. But that was more than anyone else wanted these days, when even her director acted as if he were doing her a favor by letting her do her job. The Champion of Justice had given way to the Detective Prince, and she couldn't imagine ever having a lover again. But she could have this. Take an interest in the next generation and leave a legacy.

Decision made, Sae fished out a business card from the case. "I'm quite busy at the moment, but I check my voicemail regularly."

He took the card and read it. "Special Investigations? How momentous. Why don't I give you my contact information as well? Ah, but what shall I do for scrap paper?" And before she or Madarame could say anything, he was leaning over her again and scribbling at the bottom of her notes, heedless of the content. _Yusuke Kitagawa, Apprentice Artist_ and a phone number below.

"That's enough for now, Yusuke." There was hardness in Madarame's tone. "I suppose I should thank you for this surprising kindness towards my student, Ms. Niijima." He marched Yusuke towards the exit.

Well, that was enough strangeness for one day. Sae stood and limped toward her office. Hours ticked by as fatigue and pain sapped her until she could no longer deny it. Ambition demanded she worked as long and hard as possible, but her body demanded otherwise. Damn Kaneshiro. And damn her.

She had spent more than she should have on the apartment in Yoyogi. Three bedrooms on the ground floor of an apartment building with a vigilant doorman and in a good enough neighborhood that miscreants would have to spend extra effort to threaten what was left of her family. Handrails installed and anything vaguely suggestive of a step ruthlessly eliminated. Sae hobbled to the couch and collapsed with as much grace as she could muster.

"Sis, you're home!" Makoto emerged from the kitchen, looking too frazzled and pensive for someone whose school year had only just begun. Sae's heart twisted. She looked so much like their father. She thought like him too, believing so ardently in justice and that any problem could be solved with aikido or brainpower. Sae and her father had made sure that she never knew of their sleepless nights poring over investigation notebooks. A mistake in retrospect. Someday, Makoto would have to learn to bend before she broke.

"You're in pain." Makoto frowned. "Do you need me to get your medication?"

__Probably. But I'm not looking forward to the aftermath.__ "Not yet. How's school? I trust you're performing adequately as student council president?"

"It's not as glamorous as I thought it would be. Mostly I'm running errands for Principal Kobyakawa. And the other students seem to dislike me. More than usual."

Ah. She had never been meant to be anyone's parent, but this she had known even before the accident. She gestured for Makoto to stand before her and took her hands gently but firmly in her own. "There are those who will want to see you fail because you're a woman in authority. Our only hope of success is to do that boring work and do it so well that those in power have no choice but to recognize us. We have to endure that isolation. You understand?"

Makoto nodded, but without any conviction. "But surely I'm supposed to be more than a glorified errand girl? I'm supposed to be a voice for the students? Protect them?"

A warning chill settled across Sae's skin. So much like their father. Like her, before. "Did something happen at school?"

"No, yes, I'm not sure. I'm hearing rumors, vile rumors about a teacher. That he...takes liberties he shouldn't with the female students."

No. Shujin was in one of the best neighborhoods in the city, a jewel in the crown of the education system. Such things shouldn't happen there. But of course they did. Every day, things happened in Tokyo that could make a grown woman vomit, and the powerful were the perpetrators as often as not. Her grip tightened. "Has anyone touched you?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm as safe as I can be. It's the other students I worry about. If this teacher is doing this..."

If a teacher was abusing students and Makoto was already hearing rumors about it, then it had probably been going on for some time. Which meant that he probably had the backing of the administration. Which meant a mere student would be crushed if she went against him. "Do you have any proof?"

"No. I'd have to investigate."

Investigate. Another Niijima putting herself in harm's way. Sae's nails dug into Makoto's skin hard enough for her to gasp. "It's not your job to investigate. Keep your head down and make yourself as useful as you can to the school. Make it look good."

"But—"

She could see Makoto in her mind's eye, gathering evidence with a thoroughness that would make their father proud. Confronting the teacher. Being mocked, expelled. Or worse. There was always worse for a woman. "You're just a student. You don't have the power to change the world. The only way to get power is to pass your exams and get a good job." _ _And pray you don't end up like me.__ "Promise me that you'll keep yourself safe."

"I promise." She sounded like a child being ordered to eat her vegetables, but Sae chose to believe that her sister wasn't stupid.

"Good. I'm...going to take something and go to bed."

Makoto flinched almost imperceptibly. They both knew what 'taking something' would mean. "Do you want me to help you undress or stay with you?"

"I want you to study and get some sleep. Your last year in high school will be critical to your future." She wasn't a broken thing needed the help of a child.

Sae hauled herself to her feet and shuffled to the bedroom without a backward glance. She had made this apartment into a new home. She had abandoned naïve ideals, but she hadn't been able to shake her love of beautiful things. The nightstand was a rich cherry, and one of Matsuko's abstracts she hadn't been able to part with hung on the wall.

She caught her reflection in the mirror. Raised pink scars slashed across the right side of her face and snaked down her neck until they were swallowed by her turtleneck. Her pants leg was slightly more subtle, a bit of bulkiness the only hint at the brace and marring underneath. Benjiro had vomited at the twisted, crippled limb. A year in and out of the hospital for rehabilitation and surgeries, physical therapy and skin grafts, and it was the best they could do She frowned. At least her hair had grown back. It wasn't that she had been vain. Her true value had always been and would always be her intellect. But she missed soft kisses and the sheer desire. Her looks had led to unwanted attention, but not all the attention had been unwanted. She had known how to be both the lover and the lawyer.

The worst part of getting ready for bed was putting away her jewelry. It was all too easy to sneak a glance at the bottle of Armagnac, still where she and her father had stashed it so Makoto wouldn't find it. They were going to drink it when Kaneshiro hung from a noose for his crimes. She should have thrown it away. It was another reminder of her failures, and the doctors had been very clear that alcohol and her pain medication didn't mix. But she couldn't quite bear to throw away something so exquisite. Maybe she would give it to Makoto when she graduated college.

Sae undressed by halting, irregular degrees until there was nothing left but to surrender to the inevitable. The little white pills on her bedside table were the only thing the doctors had found to soothe her pain when it got this bad, but it dulled her mind and made her see things that weren't there. Took her to places that didn't exist. At least, she hoped they didn't.

She awoke in a casino. The colored lights flickered and danced on equally garish carpet as slot machines jangled. A neon sign of Lady Justice, half burnt-out, watched over the casino floor and the shadowy pit bosses and cocktail waitresses who moved among the patrons. If they could even be called patrons. The men and women who stared at the ever-spinning reels wore rumpled suits and faded dresses, but their faces were bruised and bloodied. Every so often, the wheels would stop spinning and one of them would be dragged away by the pit bosses. The screams mingled with the sounds of the games. Some of the other gamblers would flash nervous glances, but no one moved to help.

No. That wasn't right. Sae knew this place. Once upon a time, she had been the master. She had helped the wounded seek justice, and she hadn't had to rig games in favor of the house to do it. "Will none of you do something?"

"They didn't for us," said a soft, too sweet voice. Heels clattered on the floor as Sae rounded. The woman before her was her twin and yet…not. Her face and body were whole, and her yellow eyes to give off a light of their own. She wore a cocktail dress that puddled to the floor, with a plunging neckline and slit up the side that Sae never would have tried outside the bedroom and maybe not then. She twirled a yellow rose between gloved fingers. "No one cares that the man who tried to kill us still walks free. You'll never get it back, you know. You only got the Special Investigation post because people felt sorry for you. But soon enough, you'll be shoved aside."

"A tube of eyeliner isn't meant to be a one day supply."

"Then what does it say about you that I'm dressed like this? I'm the whisper in the dark, the truth you won't acknowledge."

Another scream cut through the air. Sae pressed her finger to her temples. "Make it stop."

"What makes you think I could?" The...demon sounded almost sad. "Everything we built is in ashes. All those morning show appearances and they still think you slept her way to the top. And still you persist. You even try to protect Makoto when she's nothing but a parasite!"

"Shut up!" Makoto was naïve, but she was Sae's sister. All she had left in the world. The one who had dressed her when she was too weak to dress herself. "I love her."

"Then you'll lose her," said a different voice that made Sae's blood run cold. "Maybe I'll even be the one to take her from you. Leave her corpse with you for a few minutes while the emergency crews dig her out."

Sae fell to her knees. Junya Kaneshiro was a shadow, but she knew him as well as anyone could. Three years ago, he had been an underboss in a minor yakuza clan, but his practice of enslaving teenagers for drug running and sex work had made him a priority for her and her father. For a year they had built the case. And then, the explosion. The itinerant workers who had set the bomb had been duly caught and hanged, but they had refused to divulge who had ordered the hit. Kaneshiro now ruled Tokyo's underworld unmolested. It didn't take a genius to see the connection.

She forced herself to look into his fat face. "You'll never touch her, you bastard."

"You still think you're the Champion of Justice, don't you?" asked her doppelgänger. "That would please the artist, wouldn't it? Sae Niijima, knight in shining armor. Let me show you what kind of knight you truly are." Black smoke wreathed her. What remained when it vanished was even less human. And an enormous thing in black armor that twisted in on itself. Half her face plate had been ripped away to reveal rotting flesh underneath. "Look and despair."

"Yes, look," said Kaneshiro. "I'll see you soon. Bring the family."

Sae awoke with a start. She was in a bed. Her bed. Makoto was in the next room. Tomorrow she would get up and go to work and everything would be fine. Dreams were only dreams. She was no monster and Kaneshiro didn't care that she still lived.

_Only because you're useless. Have fun with the artist._


	2. Sketching the Future

Yusuke wiped his brow. The act of creation was an exhilarating one, but pouring one's spirit onto canvas was exhausting. Especially when it was beset by the darker emotions. _Garden of Troubled Delight_ had been a difficult piece, an attempt to make sense of the rage and ingratitude that had gripped him over the last few months. If he couldn't manage the purity of _Sayuri,_ he could at least lay his defects bare as penance.

Sensei peered over his shoulder. "Much darker than your usual."

Yusuke shrugged. "I've been melancholy." That sounded better than being ungrateful to the man who had taken him in when he had nothing.

"Well, perhaps this new project of yours will reinvigorate you. Can't have you losing the ability to paint altogether." He sighed and Yusuke tensed. Those sighs had become like the sharpening of the executioner's sword. "Oh, if only my own art block was so easily broken. My boy, you must let me have this."

The tension grew until it infected every muscle in his body. This was his, his traitorous mind whispered, his pain and darkness that had fueled the deep reds and blacks and the aggressive brushstrokes. "The paint's not even dry."

Sensei laughed. "It's not a cake. You don't need to bake it once you finish putting it together."

Yusuke opened his mouth and closed it again. At first, he had been happy to give his words to Sensei to help him with the art block. Natsuhiko's departure had hurt them both terribly, and it was only natural that Sensei's creative faculties would be damaged. But now, nearly a year later, Yusuke was exhausted. He hadn't lied to Sae Niijima when he had said his mind was a desert and every time a shoot broke free from the parched earth, Sensei consumed it. "But—"

"Now, Yusuke, you don't want me on the street do you? The art world is ruthless. You must produce constantly or you're thrown out like trash. I depend on you now, just as you once depended on me. All those years of feeding and clothing and private schools…" There were tears in his eyes.

"Of course, Sensei." He was such an ungrateful wretch. "My work is yours to do with as you please."

"Thank you. This will work marvelously for the exhibition in June. I need to speak to the gallery immediately, to make sure things are arranged to their best advantage. And there's the matter of the opening exhibition at school."

"Yes, I'll have to come up with something else. And steel myself for the crowds." As much as he loved the act of making art, Yusuke disliked the social aspect almost as much. People were always talking too loudly and asking questions that seemed inane but were somehow very important. And yet, such was the life of the artist.

"No you won't. I'll be in attendance, but your headmaster saddled me with a meet-and greet with some Ministry of Culture functionary. I won't have time to watch out for you. We discussed the matter, and given your... eccentricities, he's permitting you to let the work speak for itself."

His eccentricities. His habit of saying the wrong thing or saying it too loudly or hyperfocusing on the patterns of a vein of marble until the rest of the world fell away. Such things were not normal and why the others at Kosei only barely tolerated him. Why he was lucky Sensei had taken him in after his mother's death. Orphans were often abused. Many didn't attend high school. An orphan like him... he shuddered to think of it. "I see."

"You're not missing much. It's all meaningless blather that would sully your artistic spirit. Finances, business talk. Gossip."

Sensei was right, but some part of Yusuke still chafed. He might hate the mercenary and gossipy parts of the art world, but they were parts of the art world nonetheless. "I have to figure out how to handle myself someday. You won't be able to protect me forever."

Sensei shook his head. "No, I suppose not." There was something in his voice. Yusuke would have called it sinister, but that made no sense. He had never been good at reading tones of voice. "But the fact remains that I'll be otherwise occupied that night. You'd have to find someone else to accompany you. Unless you would prefer to be alone?"

Yusuke thought of Kosei's cavernous gallery space and of having no one there whom he could call friend. His shoulders slumped. "I suppose not."

"That settles it, then. I'll make it up to you. Buy you a new art book." Sensei straightened, and when he spoke again, his voice was brisk. "I simply must go to the museum to discuss the exhibition, and I won't be back until late. Make sure you do your homework and clean the floors."

"I will."

"That's a good boy." Sensei patted him on the shoulder. The sensation always made him tense, but he had learned to tolerate it for Sensei's sake. "Don't worry. I'll protect you." And with that, he swept out the door.

Yusuke surveyed the room. Protect him. Sensei did so much to protect him. Even this atelier— _shack_ whispered his traitorous side—was armor against worldly desires contaminating his art. And yet, an artist sought to capture the world. He sold his work to galleries and museums. He might take commissions to earn his keep. And then there was the whole world of auctions and art fairs and critics that he saw only in glimpses. Somehow, he had to learn to at least tolerate them. And he had to come up with a new painting. He needed inspiration and he needed it soon.

Inspiration. He thought, suddenly, of Sae Niijima. His desire to paint the perfect woman was an old one, an homage and tribute to the artists and models down through the centuries who had displayed the beauty of the female form. Except Yusuke would do them one better and show the world what could be. Instead of putting a single woman on a pedestal, he would take the best from each of them. Finding Ms. Niijima had really been quite extraordinary. He had never seen hands so perfectly shaped before, the fingers slim but not delicate. That they had come attached to a scarred face had made them more remarkable. Like finding a Caravaggio in the ruins of a plundered museum.

He plucked her card from his pocket and dialed the number. "Niijima." Her tone was gruff, perhaps tired.

Yusuke plunged ahead before he lost his nerve. "Ms. Niijima? This is Yusuke Kitagawa. We spoke about you modeling for me? I was wondering if you were free? I have time to work."

"The artist from the office?" Papers shuffled in the background. "Why not? Today has been—give me half an hour to finish typing this."

It would take Yusuke that long to get to Yoyogi. "I'll be right there." He grabbed his jacket and was out the door in moments.

Yusuke had seen and nodded at the well-to-do when he helped Sensei with exhibitions and when its members came to Kosei, but seeing where they lived was different. The address Niijima's card directed him to was a newish high-rise that gleamed in the sunlight. There was green on the sidewalks, and a boutique across the street. The pedestrians wore the suits that were so ubiquitous in Tokyo, but they seemed to fit better and the blacks of the blazers seemed blacker, the buttons shinier.

He entered the apartment building. More tasteful elegance in the lobby. Yusuke stared. A marble statue of a family of four, mother and father gazing down at their two children with affection even Yusuke could recognize. Hidei Kidosha was fond of crafting such familial scenes. Yusuke thought his work was pedestrian and idealized, but Sensei assured him that the public adored any celebration of people having children. Such an installation would have been a lucrative commission, so Sensei must have had a point.

A security guard looked him up and down, and Yusuke was suddenly conscious of how poorly his school uniform fit. Sensei had earned the right to mingle among the elite no matter how he dressed, but Yusuke was only a poor student. "What are you doing here?" barked the guard.

Yusuke cleared his throat and tried to ignore the sweat on his palms. "I—I—" What was the expected answer again? "I'm an artist." No, wait. He wouldn't care about that part. "I'm here to see Sae Niijima. She's expecting me."

"One moment." The guard pressed a series of buttons on a console. "Ms. Niijima? There's someone to see you. An artist, he says."

"Show him up." She sounded no more welcoming than the guard.

"Take a left down the first hallway and a right at the second intersection. Apartment 451 will be the third on your left."

An apartment on the ground floor? How very strange. When Sensei had told him Ms. Niijima sometimes modeled for artists, he had pictured her living somewhere with panoramic views. How foolish of him. She had limped horribly at the prosecutors office. Standing in an elevator would be a trial.

He managed to find the apartment without getting lost. He swallowed. No reason to be nervous. Ms. Niijima's tone had been brusque, but she had agreed to model for him. Twice. He knocked.

"I'm coming." He heard the uneven thud of footsteps and a cane, the door opened, and Ms. Niijima stood before him. Yusuke stared. She must have left work only recently because she wore the same severe blazer and simple jewelry. But the bustle of the prosecutors office and sheer nerves had scattered his attention. He hadn't noticed her eyes. They seem to catch and reflect the light, turning what should have been simple brown into a glow like polished garnet. A symbol of inner fire and determination, or something more? And the way it stood out against the almost porcelain perfection of the left half face had possibilities.

Her lips thinned. "Are you going to come in or just stare?" More barking. Something about Yoyogi must incline the citizenry to gruffness.

She limped back and allowed Yusuke to push his way inside. The apartment was yet more tasteful elegance. The leather of the couch, the polish of the hardwood, the sheer solidness of everything spoke of both wealth and impeccable taste. Not the decadence Yusuke had been taught was a peril of material success. The only oddity was that he could see no rugs of any kind. A pair of dress shoes, as black as Niijima's blazer, but slightly rounder than normal, sat by the door. Yusuke stepped out of his own and put them beside hers.

"Let's get on with it. Where do you want me?"

Yusuke spotted a lacquered table. "There, please. Rest your hands side-by-side."

He opened to a blank page and began. Reference sketching was a necessary but tedious part of any artist's work. It wasn't true artistry, merely checking off poses so that he could be sure of his accuracy when he finally began to create his true beauty. But as overwhelmed as he had been by the perfection of her hands, her eyes distracted him and his gaze continually wandered to her face even as he sketched her slim fingers.

Those eyes narrowed and flashed, the red transforming from a dull ember to a blazing fire. "Stop that."

Yusuke tilted his head. Stop what? He was only sketching his model. Model. Ah, yes. Artists were supposed to make pleasing conversation and put their models at ease. "The weather has been quite pleasant, has it not?"

She blinked. "Don't change the subject."

"I'm sorry. I was unaware there was a subject. I assumed you were angry because my silence displeased you."

She inhaled and exhaled, and her nostrils flared. Yusuke thought he saw a vein on her temple. "I'm angry because you haven't been able to stop staring at my scars since you got here. If I wanted to be fetishized, I've had more than enough opportunity."

It was his turn to blink. Fetishize? Her scars? Of all the absurd notions. "I've been looking at your eyes. The way they catch the light. I've never seen that before. May I take some sketches of them as well? I think I could do something interesting with them."

Her lips parted. "I—of course." She sat back in her chair.

Yusuke resumed his sketching with renewed vigor. His hands drew her eyes, but his mind was busy with the vistas they would inspire. Something about that tiny red glimmer like some distant star. Perhaps as a contrast with the porcelain of her skin? Perhaps just the eye, an enormous close-up that would force the viewer to reckon with being under the gaze of something that missed nothing and would prompt self-examination. Or perhaps something nonrepresentational, red and brown and white all together, vitality and porcelain perfection. Or perhaps…

"Sis, I'm home!" A new voice pierced his reverie of creation. "Do you want—oh! I didn't realize you had company."

Yusuke turned and suppressed the urge to glare at the interloper. She had dark hair and eyes the same color as Niijima's, though there was no sign of the spark that had derailed his plans for this session. He stood and gave what he hoped was a sufficiently polite bow. "Hello."

Niijima didn't stand. "Mr. Kitagawa, this is my sister Makoto. Makoto, this is Yusuke Kitagawa. He's an art student I'm working with."

Makoto's lips rounded into a soft 'o.' "You're modeling again? I'm so happy for you."

Sae glared at her and waved her away. "Just some sketch work. It's nothing. School went well?"

"Same as always. Second-year has a transfer student. He has some kind of criminal record, apparently. Even the third-years were gossiping about it." She made a noise in the back of her throat. "Don't people have anything better to do than gossip?"

"They rarely do. Just keep yourself out of trouble. You have a bright future ahead of you. I'd hate to see it derailed by jealous slander."

For a moment, Yusuke thought Makoto would argue, but her shoulders slumped. "You're right of course."

"Good. Do you mind cooking dinner? It's been...a frustrating day."

"Frustrating? Did something happen at work? Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm chasing shadows. Things that shouldn't exist, but do." She bowed her head and pinched her nose. "It would only bore you."

"If you're sure." She flushed. "Is tuna all right?"

Tuna. Yusuke's mouth watered at the thought. He hadn't eaten since this morning, and then only a little. His stomach growled, and the sound seemed to echo through the apartment. He froze. An artist might be forced to detach himself from the material world, but he should never let it show outwardly. But the Niijima's were staring at him. "Would you like to join us?" asked Makoto.

He really should refuse. One didn't impose on the hospitality of such recent acquaintances. "I have no wish to trouble you."

Sae crossed her arms. "It would be more trouble if I had to explain to the paramedics why you passed out from hunger. Stay." Not a request, but an order.

Yusuke couldn't fight both his stomach and propriety. "At least let me help."

He and Makoto went to the kitchen. It was as nice as the rest of the apartment, and the quality and variety of the ingredients so casually stacked in the shelves would have made him weak-kneed even if he weren't hungry. "You must create true works of art with these ingredients."

He must have said the wrong thing again because Makoto frowned. "Actually it's pretty normal tuna. Sis is always tired when she comes home from work and I have cram school this year, so it's pretty basic."

"A shame." The things he could do with the pepper alone...

A few minutes later, they had created some tolerable, pedestrian fish lightly seasoned on a bed of rice with some vegetables. Still, one plate held as much as he and two other apprentices would eat put together. They returned to the table where Sae had modeled for him. Makoto put down the dishes while he placed the knives and chopsticks. He took a seat opposite Sae and waited. He mustn't eat so quickly that he appeared unseemly. And, whispered that traitorous spirit, it wasn't as if Sensei would feed him like this.

"Eat," Sae said with a wave of her chopsticks. Something about being a prosecutor must lend itself to having a dominating personality.

Yusuke dove into his fish. Even if it was basic, it was delicious; and in what seemed no time at all, his portion was almost gone. He looked up to see Sae and Makoto looking at him. Makoto seemed almost worried, but Sae's visible eyebrow was furrowed. "Have you eaten today?"

Yusuke tensed. Outsiders, even ones as familiar with the art world as Sae seemed to be wouldn't understand. "I often become lost in my work, as you saw. My regular meal times suffer for it."

Sae's expression didn't change, but she straightened in her chair. "It's good to be focused, but don't neglect your physical health." She turned her attention to Makoto. "Especially if you want to work as a prosecutor. It's grueling enough without you doing anything to add to it."

"A prosecutor," Makoto murmured. For some reason Yusuke couldn't explain, she looked unhappy. "What about you? You look so tired."

"Never mind me. It's just this case and my colleagues." She sighed. "You'll have to learn how to smile and nod and bite your tongue. All the desire for justice in the world won't matter if you can't play politics." She inclined her head toward him. "I have to attend the art exhibit Kosei is holding. The Deputy Minister's grandson has a piece, and the director insists I attend. I have to find someone to escort me. That should be fun."

"Actually, I imagine it will be quite str—" His mind caught up with what Sae was saying and his fingers trembled. Here was his chance. The art gods had smiled upon him at last. "I could accompany you."

Sae froze mid-bite and Yusuke shrank in his seat. Sae had looked at him with anger and irritation but she had never looked at him like this: like other people did when he said something that he shouldn't have. Surprise and pity. But this mattered more than his pride so he continued on, the words tumbling out like water through a sluice. "Sensei is otherwise occupied that night, and I'm afraid to go alone, but how can I gauge the response to my work if I can't see it?"

"The response is their business, not yours. You can't control the meaning they impose on your work." She sounded like she was quoting someone.

"Yes, but so much of my profession is in dealing with people and I'm very bad at it. I must learn instead of watching on the sidelines like an invalid."

"Invalid," she whispered but then her voice was brisk again. "I'll accept your offer. Meet me here at 7:30. Your school uniform should suffice."

"Thank you!" He bowed. "Now I just have to return home and—" Home. He was supposed to clean before Sensei returned. Meetings with the museum could stretch for hours, but he'd be lucky to make it home before Sensei. "I have to go."

Yusuke arrived home panting and sweating, but there was no sign of Sensei. He grabbed a broom and contemplated how best to tell Sensei of his decision. _It's time you let me grow up._ No, too confrontational and ungrateful besides _. I think it will help me grow as an artist._ That had possibilities, but it was vague. _I could be of more help at exhibits._ That might be the best approach. Sensei was the greatest artist alive, but he was practical about everything else.

Sensei stepped through the door. "I'm home." He surveyed the house. "I thought I told you to clean." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, my boy. You know how meetings can be. Did something happen?"

Yusuke swallowed down the lump in his throat. There was no way to hide where he had been when his entire plan hinged on escorting Sae. "You recall Ms. Niijima? I was seized with the desire to make some reference sketches. Time got away from me." True as far as it went. "She needs my help."

"Of course she does. It's a miracle that she hasn't given up on life entirely. Tragic, but there's nothing we can do for her. Put it out of your mind."

Now, before he lost his nerve. "She's attending the exhibition. I want to escort her. I know I'm awkward and you're trying to protect me, but I hate that you have to navigate the world for me."

"It's no trouble. I assumed responsibility for you the day I took you in."

"But you won't always be there. What about once I leave Kosei? And I could help you as you socialize."

Sensei's eyes were hard. "That woman. No doubt this is petty revenge upon me for some slight. You would be completely lost, Yusuke. All the meaningless gossip."

"If I'm lost, then I must learn to find my way." There must be some way to fit into this world without losing every part of himself. There must be some way to convince Sensei. "Please, I'll—" He swallowed. "I'll do whatever you wish."

"So passionate. So desperate." He laughed. "Yusuke Kitagawa making small talk with prosecutors. What a… charming image. Very well. I'll allow you the experience. Maybe then you will see why I keep you home."

"Thank you, Sensei." Somehow, with Sae Niijima's help, Yusuke would learn to be free.


	3. A Kindness

Sae gazed at her closet and scowled. Any number of dresses that would have been the height of fashion three years ago were hung neatly on their hangers. And every one of them had been cut to flatter a woman confident of her beauty, especially long legs that men always stared at. Sae stared down at her brace. She didn't believe in gods, but she did believe in irony.

Then she saw the solution and a wave of nausea assaulted her. The yukata hung at the back of the closet. She had only worn it once, on a trip to Hakone with Benjiro. Traditional dress was implicit capitulation to the little boxes the rest of the world wanted to put her in. But the alternative was that rest of the world staring at a crippled, mangled limb. She took it from the closet, dressed, and looked in the mirror. _Fraud_.

"Sis, are you—oh." Makoto took a tentative step into the room. "Do you want me to come back later?"

"No. Can you help me with my hair? You always were better at parting it." Sae smiled at the memory. When they were children, Makoto had been fascinated by her sister's long silver hair and had taken any chance she could to play with it. That was how they should have stayed: sisters who had fun together and told each other secrets instead of guardian and ward that made her worry about Makoto being safe and provided for instead of being happy.

"On the left side?"

Sae looked at the jagged scars of her reflection. Before the bomb, she had worn her hair tied back, the ponytail sweeping over her shoulder. When she had worn it down, she had parted it on the right. To do either would be to put her disfigurement on display. She had to have her pride. Otherwise, it was a short hop to being the sort of invalid who needed someone to clean up after her. And yet, it seemed all she did was hide herself away."Yes, on the left." _Worse than a fraud. A ghost._ "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Makoto seemed almost surprised at the courtesy. "I think it's good of you to get out like this."

"I go to work and I ride. I don't have the time or energy to do anything else and still fulfill my responsibilities to you." Unbidden images flashed across her mind: staring up at Mount Fuji with the other tourists and being so overcome that she had taken Benjiro's hand, wearing the hats with silly ears during an impromptu trip to Destinyland after another boyfriend had confessed that he had never been, having a crowd of teenage girls hanging on her every word as she described a day in the life of a prosecutor. "Perhaps I should have taken you. Some very important people will be at that exhibition, and it's never too early for you to make contacts."

"It's kinder of you to take Kitagawa."

"I hope it's a kindness." The strange boy who seemed to be resisting his own unwanted boxes. He wasn't like Benjiro or Ayumi or any of the other artists she had known. He was...sad. Earnest and awkward and blunt, but not cruel, or at least not intentionally. And he had truly seemed not to care about her disfigurement. He was fascinated with her hands, her eyes. And it had been nice to be admired, to put herself on display because it was her choice to show off a positive. Perhaps Kitagawa was merely flattering her vanity, but for the hour he had been here, she had felt a bit like her old self. She would squire him to school for that.

Makoto finished her hair. Sae would never be a beauty again, and the flowing material of the yukata felt awkward, but her hair was glossy and the good half of her face adorned with the subtle makeup that she had always worn. She looked like a woman who belonged at the prosecutor's office. "Thank you," she said again. The strange monster of her nightmares might want her to discard Makoto, but Sae wasn't one to let dream demons control her mind.

The doorman buzzed. "Ms. Niijima? Yusuke Kitagawa to see you."

Sae took a deep breath and willed the tremor in her hands to stop. She had once been the toast of all Japan. She could handle an office party and a socially-awkward high school student. "He's expected."

Kitagawa arrived a few minutes later. His hair still fell a little too much in front of his eyes to be entirely respectable, and his uniform still looked too big for him, but he had added the blazer and he stood with perfect posture as they looked at each other. "Ms. Niijima? Am I presentable? Sensei was no help at all as he prefers traditional garb." He gestured wildly to the yukata. "Should I have worn traditional garb? I don't have enough money for train fare home, but I would probably make it back in time if I walked and—" He took a breath to steady himself. "Pardon my manners. Hello. You look lovely."

Sae kept her face impassive. He was nervous, that was all. Snarling would only make it worse. "I told you that your uniform would suffice, and I meant it."

Makoto was beaming as if Sae were the teenager and about to embark on her very first date. "Enjoy yourselves tonight." She was barely restraining herself from taking a picture if the look on her face was any indication.

Her face warmed. "Just do your homework." She turned to Kitagawa. "Shall we go? We need to get to the car, and I walk slowly, but if we leave now then we should arrive in plenty of time."

He nodded, accepting this. Prosecutor and artist lumbered towards the parking garage. A few of her neighbors stopped to gawk, though whether they were transfixed by the novelty of Sae in a yukata or the student at her side, she couldn't say. Kitagawa was silent, taking in the sights around him. He had seemed so fascinated by the elegance of the apartment the other day. Really, Madarame should have accustomed him to such things by now. He could talk about "detachment from worldly desires" all he liked, but Sae remembered his mistress and her art collection worth over six hundred million yen.

He seemed equally fascinated by her car. Sae's brush with fame and fortune had allowed her luxuries she had never dreamed when she was growing up in Yongen, among them a black Clexus. She'd never seen a reason to give it up. Kitagawa walked around the car with a mixture of awe and anxiety. "That seems...quite impressive."

Sae smiled. If Madarame hadn't bothered to show Yusuke the finer things in life, she might as well enjoy herself. "And it handles like a dream. Get in."

Tokyo traffic didn't allow her to show off the way she would have liked, but she noticed the way he luxuriated against the leather seats, his eyes half-closed as he listened to the purr of the engine. His muscles finally loosened a bit. Yes, Kitagawa would be fun to spoil. Not that that would be any of her business after tonight. It still felt good to have a ton of metal under control and someone to appreciate that power.

"Thank you," he said. "Chaperoning me at these events is always such a bother for Sensei, and he'll be busy with some of the other guests."

Sae's hands tensed on the steering wheel. "He's going to be there, but he couldn't be bothered to drive you to a school event?" She revised her opinion of Madarame further downward to "incompetent." Didn't he know that these little gatherings would be vital to Yusuke's future, and that schools liked to see involved guardians? She had always managed to drag herself to Shujin when required, no matter how inconvenient it was.

"Don't use that tone. It's merely that I'm a little...odd and that I require extra attention in social situations. I'm fortunate that Sensei gives me as much as he does."

Odd. Kitagawa certainly was that. Odd, but not outlandish or cruel. "What kind of attention?" When he didn't answer, she added, "Tell me. It's better than I know now, so that we can adapt."

His earlier ease evaporated as he hunched his shoulders and looked down. "Everything is so loud with too many people talking at once. They ask about the weather and things like that, but they look offended when I answer them truthfully. I never know when to lie and when not to. Sensei helps. And he smooths things over when I inevitably make a fool of myself."

Ah. Sae had known people like that before. Those who seemed incapable of picking up social cues and needed everything precisely arranged. Some of them had been diagnosed with Asperger's or autism, but most were content to be labeled eccentrics who carved out niches for themselves with varying degrees of success. Odd. "There's a side room off the exhibition hall, isn't there? We can go there if it gets too much for you. Or too much for me." She looked down at her leg. The exhibition being too much for her suddenly seemed like a terrifyingly real possibility.

But the offer seemed to calm Kitagawa, and he sat back again. "Thank you."

Kosei was almost identical to Shujin except for the star crest hanging on the main building. Sae parked as close to the exhibition hall as she could. Parents, students, teachers and other notables were streaming in, dressed in their best. Sae bit her lip and made a mental note to arrive earlier next time. But there was no avoiding the crush or inevitable attention now. She gripped her cane. "Ready?"

Yusuke looked just as anxious as she did but nodded. He got out of the car and before Sae could move he was opening her door and offering his hand. "May I assist?"

Sae stared at his hand. It had been years since someone had offered their hand to help her from the car, a quaint custom she and her circle had had no use for. But Kitagawa was looking at her like he was already terrified that he had done something wrong, so she put her hand in his. His palm was warm and his fingers slightly calloused. An artist's hand. Just for a moment she could imagine that time was running backwards and she was once more the prosecutor with the world at her feet, taking her lover's hand.

Kitagawa pulled her up, and Sae was forced back to present. She used her cane to keep her balance. Other guests were glancing their way, already curious. He frowned. "Such manners."

"Take it as a lesson. You can't let the rest of the world cow you, especially if they say that you don't fit in." She met their gazes, and one by one they turned away. "Come. We have people to impress."

The exhibition hall was even more crowded. Yusuke's eyes went wide as the babble and clink of glasses washed over them both. Loud, he'd said. Too much sensation. And already the gazes were flickering to them once more, too many for her to quiet with a look. The fallen champion with her high school escort and a yukata that made her feel alien in her own body. She could do this. They could do this. "Breathe," she whispered as much to herself as to Kitagawa. "Focus."

"On what?"

Sae scanned the room for a friendly face and found none. Of all the times for Akechi to be working on a case... She saw her director deep in conversation with the deputy minister. The two men who most needed to see her as capable before her leg or her energy gave out. "They'll do." She grabbed a glass of punch from one of the roaming waiters and led Kitagawa into the breach.

She bowed. "Sir." She didn't bother to keep the note of challenge from her voice. _I'm here because I belong in this office and I can do any task you set_.

"Niijima." Her director looked her up and down. Calculating, not lustful. "I never thought that I would see you in traditional dress."

Sae set her jaw. "Yes, well, I think you'll find that I can adapt to situations as required."

"I daresay you can, Champion," said the deputy director. "Anyone else would have curled into a ball and died. But not you. I'm not sure if it's tenacity or idiocy."

"Tenacity," said Kitagawa with a slight quaver in his voice. "Persistence is the greatest virtue after all, and not 'curling into a ball' as you say requires great persistence that should be commended."

It was the strangest compliment that Sae had ever received. She'd take it. The deputy director's gaze settled on Kitagawa. "You're Madarame's latest student, aren't you? No doubt he's filled you with all the traditional notions of virtue. My grandson is an art student here as well. Perhaps you've met?"

"Perhaps." Kitagawa studied his face. "Yes, I see the resemblance. He sits next to me in history. Only mediocre brushwork, but he was kind enough to share his lunch with me after mine was stolen. You should be very proud of him."

Sae barely resisted burying her face in her hands. He had warned her that he was socially awkward. "Yes, very proud. And I'm sure h his brushwork is superior as well."

"No, it's-"

Sae gripped Kitagawa's arm. "We really should examine the paintings," she said through gritted teeth.

"That's one of the times you lie," she hissed as she marched toward the nearest gallery wall.

Yusuke flinched as if he had been struck, and Sae almost felt guilty. "Because I said his brushwork was mediocre? What a foolish thing to be insulted about."

"The entire reason he's sending the boys to art school is so that he can become an artist. Of course he's insulted!"

He tilted his head to one side. "The point of art school is to learn. His brushwork is mediocre. But it will not necessarily remain mediocre. He's been very kind to me. Shouldn't that compliment count for something as well?" He fidgeted. "Skill is changeable. Virtue is more lasting and more important. I'd think you of all people should understand."

"Oh I should, should I?"

"Yes. I assume you were complimented on the aesthetic nature of your features much more frequently in the past. Isn't it better to value those things that can't be so easily changed or discarded? I would much rather praise his kindness to me, or your kindness to me, come to think of it."

Sae opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her anger fizzled into a helpless disbelief. If only what he said were true. "The rest of the world doesn't see it that way," she said at last.

"So I'm learning. So much beauty in the world that people refuse to see because it doesn't look like they think it should." He grimaced. "The paintings, then? Before I embarrass you further?"

And once more with that broken expression. "I've had more embarrassing encounters. More importantly, you will have embarrassing encounters, even when you behave perfectly. It's the nature of social occasions."

Kitagawa didn't smile, but his shoulders straightened, and Sae chose to take that as a victory. He led her to one of the paintings. It was an abstract: a mostly white canvas with streaks and swirls of garnet. Vital, dangerous red that marred the porcelain perfection. And yet… "If I didn't know better, I'd say that the artist didn't think much of beauty. That he or she preferred ugliness. The background is pristine, but they seem almost… dismissive of it?"

"No, not dismissive." He played with his cuffs. "Perhaps he merely finds the contrast intriguing. Porcelain perfection and marring unified to create something truly fascinating."

Sae frowned. So it was his piece that they were studying? "So this is the result of your bout of inspiration the other day. Such hypocrisy. You're better than this."

He swallowed and balled his hands into fists at his side. "Hypocrisy? What would you know about art? You're a prosecutor."

"Madarame told you that I modeled? I counted many artists as my friends once." And more than friends but even discomfited as he was, Kitagawa didn't need to know about her sexual exploits. "I learned how to analyze paintings from them. And this one? You talk about how it's the unchangeable that matters, but the exacting brushwork is reserved for the red. The scars. "

Kitagawa was silent for a long time, and it felt good to know that she could bring him up short as well as he could her. Point, Niijima. It felt good too, to know that her critical faculties hadn't atrophied in the last three years and that she could still belong in this world even though she was a pragmatic prosecutor.

"It was not intentional hypocrisy," he continued, quietly. "The left half of your face is almost porcelain. An overplayed comparison. But I should have applied all my skills to the cliché and forced others to see it anew. I shouldn't have gone with my first instincts." He bowed. "My thanks for reminding me."

Sae softened. She did know artists and how fragile they could be. Kitagawa had to be taught how to take criticism, but in the right way. And he had taken her hand. "You just needed to give the concept more time to gel."

His smile had no humor. "Alas, time was something I didn't possess. This piece was created just after I came to your apartment when the original piece had to be repurposed for a more important event."

"More important? What could be more important than your school work?"

Before Kitagawa could answer, Madarame turned a corner and gave her a smile that wouldn't have fooled anyone. "Ms. Niijima, Yusuke my boy! Are you enjoying your evening?"

Kitagawa seemed to shrink. "Sensei! We were simply discussing my latest piece."

"I see." Madarame pursed his lips. "I do hope you weren't boring her. Ms. Niijima had a reputation for preferring unconventional fare, and you do have a tendency to go on and on about your work." His tone was honeyed, but malice lurked just beneath. Unconventional wasn't the word that Madarame had used when he had found out that Benjiro had gotten a solo show at the Natsumi gallery. Then he had been filled with rants about "decadence" and "perversion."

"He wasn't boring me at all. He was being very patient with my analysis of his piece."

"I see," Madarame repeated. "He does tend to rush through his work, don't you think? So anxious to start his next project that he leaves others unfinished."

Kitagawa winced, and Sae was filled with an irrational desire to take his hand. She was critical when the situation warranted, even of Makoto, but not in front of others and not without offering suggestions for improvement. Madarame was tearing down without putting anything in its place. "My opinion is that Mr. Kitagawa shows considerable promise, and if the kindness he has shown me is any indication, he has a bright future in dealing with the art world."

"If other circumstances don't intervene. We have the careers that the art gods will for us." Madarame bowed with another smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I really must discuss some paintings with the head of the school."

"Did you mean that?" Kitagawa asked when he'd gone. "I have promise?"

Sae shrugged. "The seeds of ideas are there, your technique is good, and you've only just begun. I've seen much worse become something truly great."

Kitagawa looked at her as if she had called him the next Picasso. "Thank you."

So easy to please with the kind of compliments any halfway competent teacher would give him every week. Sae's chest twinged. Being stingy with praise would hardly get anyone called in front of Family Court, but the unfairness of it rankled. "You could be great," she said.

Kitagawa beamed at her. Minor social awkwardness aside, he wasn't so very odd. Merely lonely and neglected, and he had still treated her better than anyone except Makoto and Akechi. Tonight might be a good night after all. "Do you want to check out the buffet?"

His stomach growled, and Sae suppressed a laugh. A very good night in-

That was when she saw Benjiro. She had known, vaguely, that he would be here in support of the next generation, but that wasn't the same as coming face-to-face with her ex-boyfriend as he grabbed a piece of sushi. He looked much as she remembered: tall with thick eyebrows and a well-muscled torso that looked more at home on a swimmer than an artist. The woman on his arm was new: tall, slim, darkly and exotically beautiful. The sort of woman who never got sunburn, let alone second and third degree burns. Sae gripped Kitagawa's arm, desperate to root herself to something. Someone.

Benjiro noticed her, and his lips formed a perfect 'o.' "Sae? I didn't think you would be here."

_What? Did you think that I would always be the invalid that you abandoned?_ "You remember the social responsibilities of a prosecutor. I still take an interest in the art world."

"They said that work was all that you had time for. Heavens, look at you. In a yukata of all things? I mean, I know a dress is out of the question but still-"

Sae wondered if a judge would consider hitting him over the head with her cane justified assault.

The woman next to him must have sensed her anger because she grabbed Benjiro's arm. "Darling, won't you introduce me?" Her accent was lilting, from somewhere in Europe.

"Right." He squared his shoulders like a man preparing to do battle. "Cristina, this is Sae Niijima. Sae, this is Cristina Farenelli. She works at a gallery in Rome, and they're looking to expand into Tokyo."

Farenelli bowed, and her smile was tight. "Of course. Benjiro has told me so much about you. I understand I have you to thank for the careers of a number of the artists we signed."

"Culture is important. Everyone should do their part." Sae matched her smile. Awkward professional discussion was better than the pair of them clawing at each other like two cats fighting over the last bit of tuna, but she still wanted to bolt from the room. Benjiro had broken up with her while she was still in the hospital, and he was the one who had moved on first and to someone beautiful while Sae had...a student. As if she needed further confirmation that life wasn't fair.

"We really should be going. It was good to see you again, Sae. Take care of yourself."

They disappeared into the crowd and Sae was suddenly very tired, and her leg twinged. It wasn't even that she was pining over him. It was that he still glittered and she didn't. That she was wearing clothes she didn't like to impress a boss who didn't want her to climb to a place lower than she had had before. And she would go home alone and do it all again while he and others went back to the glittering world she had been allowed to touch for a brief time.

_It doesn't matter. You'll always be the poor policeman's daughter._ She exhaled. "I'm tired. Can we sit down?"

Kitagawa, to his credit, didn't say anything. He left her hold on to his arm as he let her toward the side room.

"Poor Niijima and her broken heart," said a slurring voice.

Of all the…Hideo Inutse was an ass even by the standards of the prosecutors' office and she and the other female attorneys did their best to avoid his wandering hands and boorish comments. His nose was red, and he gestured wildly with his wineglass. "I guess he found someone else willing to tie him up."

Sae was too tired to even be embarrassed. "Go home, you're drunk."

"You're the one that should go home. Taking jobs that should belong to men like me." He gestured at the yukata. "Why don't you go all the way, and pop out someone's brat while you're at it? Some guys go for scars."

The guests around her had gone very quiet, and some nearby students were listening eagerly. Her fatigue melted away in the face of humiliation. She had drawn too much of the wrong kind of attention tonight. "Leave, before you embarrass yourself even more thing you're handling of that insurance fraud case did."

"You're a fine one to talk. You're nothing more than a parody of a woman who dishonors everything about this country right down to the clothing. I ought to—"

"You ought to be silent." Kitagawa's grip tightened on her arm. "I have listened to you cast aspersions on Ms. Niijima for long enough. You are the one who dishonors the traditions of this country. You would use them to bully people who are clearly your better and to force them into a binary that they don't fit because it suits you. Ms. Niijima has more right to the yukata than you, and she looks lovely."

"Who are you? Niijima's cheering section? Or something else?" Inutse's eyes glittered with ill-concealed malice. "Are you dating teenagers now? I thought it was only men who paid kids to hang out with them, but you always did want what we had."

Kitagawa's voice softened, but his eyes were hard and cold. "Retract that immediately, or I'll have you brought up on charges for defamation."

This couldn't be happening. It was defamation, but Inutse and his friends would make sure he never saw the inside of a courtroom. She and Kitagawa would both be laughing stocks. The director would have his chance to be rid of her. "I can defend myself."

"Heh, you couldn't defend yourself from the yakuza. Does he even know who I am?"

"A bully, among other things."

Inutse roared and drew back a fist. Kitagawa dodged. Drink had made Inutse clumsy, and he wobbled forward before crashing to the floor. For a long second Sae forgot how to breathe as she looked at the groaning Inutse. Nothing was ever supposed to happen at these parties. She was supposed to keep her head down and smile and nod and prove that she was a competent prosecutor. Not be fought over like a heroine in a poem.

The room exploded.

"Inutse's finally gone too far this time. Bullying a child."

"Niijima never was very feminine, you have to admit."

"And it was such a nice party."

"I hope this doesn't make the paper. The public would completely lose confidence in us."

"Oh, I am going to have such a story tomorrow."

A story. This was going to be all over the office by morning. And the papers might pick it up at that. Prosecutor Assaults Art Student Attempting to Defend Other Prosecutor.

Footsteps sounded. Madarame and her director burst through the crowd. Her director merely scowled, but Madarame trembled with rage, his skin pale except for two spots of color on his cheeks. "What is the meaning of this?"

Kitagawa certainly looked very small and very young. "Sensei, I—"

"I knew it was a mistake to let you come here. You're simply too excitable. It's a good thing I was here to save you further embarrassment."

"Mr. Kitagawa did nothing wrong," it was Farenelli, of all people, who spoke. ""Mr. Inutse fell after attempting to strike Mr. Kitagawa and saying truly vile things about Ms Niijima. If I'm not mistaken, he was quite correct to say Inutse should be charged with defamation, though I understand practical concerns may make that unwise."

"You threatened to have a public prosecutor arrested for defamation?" Madarame hastily turned to the director. "My apologies for this disgrace."

"The disgrace appears to be entirely with us." The director jerked his head toward the exit. "Niijima, a word?"

The pain slithered up her leg, blocking out all other emotions, even humiliation. "Can it wait, sir?" She whispered.

He sniffed. "Come by my office first thing in the morning. If we're lucky, this little scandal won't impact anyone's careers in the long-term. You use to be much better about keeping the personal and professional separate." He turned on his heel and walked away.

"If you'll excuse us, I'll take Yusuke home for you." Sae was dimly aware of Madarame and Kitagawa leaving.

Farenelli took her by the arm. "Do you need someone to drive you home?"

Sae looked at her. Maybe it was the pain playing tricks with her mind, but she seemed sincere. "You're being awfully nice to your boyfriend's ex."

"It's the twenty-first century, and I'm a decent human being. Now, what can I do for you?"

"I need to rest somewhere quiet for a while." The world had seen her weak for long enough tonight.

Farenelli practically carried her outside and onto a bench in the hallway. "Easy. Deep breaths."

Sae did as she was commanded, but the pain barely receded. More pills and a trip to the nightmare casino were in her future, it seemed. Wonderful. "You don't have to hover over me. I can't imagine you want my blessing."

Farenelli laughed. "You're not one to believe in random acts of kindness, are you? Would it make you feel better if I told you people talked like that to me, too? The business side of the art world is such a man's game. I thought I should take the chance to defend one of my own when the opportunity presented itself. Pay it forward."

Sae stared. Maybe Kitagawa had a point about the value of kindness relative to other things. "Thank you. I think I'll be all right."

Farenelli looked at her skeptically. "If you're certain..." She removed a business card from her handbag. "I doubt we'll be painting each other's nails, but Benjiro says you have a remarkably good eye for a lawyer. If you know anyone that we should be keeping an eye on for representation, let me know. Or if you need a friendly face and another social gathering." She left the card beside Sae on the bench and returned to the crush.

"I have never been so humiliated!" Madarame's voice was another knife stabbing her already pain-filled brain. "Some of the people in that room were clients! Do you imagine they'll commission me now?"

Sae raised her head. Kitagawa and Madarame stood a few meters away. Madarame loomed over his pupil, the fury that had been veiled in public now set free. Kitagawa cowered. A knife twisted in Sae's heart. The entire incident had been humiliating, but no one should have that look in their eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sensei. I didn't mean—"

"Yes, Yusuke you will be sorry. From now on you can stay at home. You clearly cannot handle the company of ordinary people."

Sae looked down at the business card. Pay it forward. Kitagawa had tried to defend her, which was more than anyone else had done. And…he was her own kind, after a fashion. Another misfit who couldn't fit into a society that didn't want him. "Mr, Madarame," she said with what strength she could muster.

Madarame and Kitagawa froze. "Ms. Niijima," Madarame said, embarrassed. "I must apologize for my pupil's actions. I promise you that they won't be repeated."

Sae made a dismissive gesture. She knew how men like Madarame worked. Honey hiding cruelty. "I think Kitagawa needs to be taught a lesson."

Kitagawa flinched. "I promise that I didn't intend to humiliate you. I never know what to say or when to say it. I warned you."

"So you did. And it's clear that you still have much to learn. I intend to teach you. I'd like you to join me for lunch on Tuesday." Maybe then he would stop acting like he hadn't eaten in a week.

"What?" Madarame said.

"Just as I said. I intend to take Mr. Kitagawa to lunch. You can't lock him away. Social services would have a field day. Let him be someone else's problem until he doesn't embarrass you. And I will settle accounts with him."

Kitagawa and Madarame both looked uncomfortable. She had caught Madarame in his own trap. He could hardly refuse her the chance to punish him. But Kitagawa...ah, of course. He couldn't read her and thought she was more furious than she was. "May I speak to him in private?"

"Of course. This should be a very entertaining next few days."

She and Kitagawa stood together in silence. "That was very valiant of you," Sae said at last. "Reckless but valiant."

"My deepest deepest apologies, Ms. Niijima." He knelt before her. "But there's no need to humiliate us both further."

"I'm not going to humiliate you. You and I are going to have a nice lunch. Probably fast food. And I am going to do my best to teach you how to make your way in the world. I promise you that even Madarame won't be able to find fault." And he would never humiliate Kitagawa for even foolish nobility again. It would be a sweet revenge.

"I...that would be very kind of you, but I'm hardly worth the trouble."

She looked down at his long, slim fingers, the ones that had taken her hand earlier tonight. "No trouble. I'm merely repaying kindness with kindness."

And as he looked at in disbelieving pleasure, Sae had a strange, stray thought: the demon of her nightmares would hate this.


	4. Champions and Princes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All new content from here on out.

Yusuke's skin prickled as he approached the diner. Sae had told him that she had no desire to humiliate him, but there had been such cold fire in her eyes when she spoke of him to Madarame. A lie, she said, unless that had been a lie instead. But it wasn't every day that he was offered free food, and he wanted to believe her. To have if not a friend, at least an ally in this confusing world.

A film crew had set up across the street. Assistants and cameramen had clustered around a handsome boy of around his own age with shaggy hair that fell almost to his shoulders. Yusuke had seen him on the television, perhaps as part of the news broadcast, but couldn't place him. He laughed at something the cameraman said and the sound carried to Yusuke's ears. This was a boy who never said the wrong thing. This was what Yusuke must be. He took a deep breath and entered the diner.

Sae was already there, in a booth near the window that looked out on the boy and the film crew. Her brows knit together as she watched them. No one else paid her any attention. Such a contrast from the other night when the crowds had been fixed on her even before he had lost his temper. Perhaps that was why she liked the place. He approached and stood, waiting.

She blinked once and turned her head to him. "Kitagawa. You made it." She didn't sound angry. "Have a seat."

He slid opposite her. The silence stretched between them, and the prickling grew sharper. He was almost certain that he was supposed to say something, but what? Gratitude was always nice. Madarame was forever reminding him that it too was a great virtue, especially to superiors that one had a duty too. "Thank you for this, for whatever your reasons. I don't get much chance to socialize."

"I noticed." Her mouth twisted upwards, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Madarame should be better about seeing that you get the chance. Ninety percent of success in the art world is based on relationships: with critics, gallerists, and curators. Hiding you away like the family jewels in a safe deposit box does no one any good."

His jaw clenched at the criticism, even if his traitorous half whispered that she was right. "Don't say such things. Sensei has been very good to me." He swallowed. "I never knew my father, and my mother died when I was very young. He adopted me and treated me as his own flesh and blood. Don't criticize such generosity for failing to meet your standards."

Her expression softened. More than softened. She was pained. "I'm sorry. About your parents. It's difficult to lose them, no matter how long ago." The vulnerability vanished. "But generous people can be negligent. Prosecutors spend their lives dealing with the results of people who mean well, but were inadequate. And do you know what I've learned? That the world doesn't care why we're crippled or socially awkward. It doesn't care that our guardians mean well or that we are single parents. It only cares that we succeed. So must you."

Her eyes were hard, and with the scars crisscrossing her face, she looked almost like a dragon. A frightening dragon. Yusuke shrank in his seat. "I'm trying to."

She took a breath. "I'm sorry. And I did promise to help you. Why don't we order?" She motioned for the server. The girl couldn't be much older than Yusuke, and she stared openly at Sae's scars. Sae's jaw worked, but her gaze never wavered from the server and her voice was icy formality. "The Comfort Steak, please."

Steak. Yusuke's mouth watered at the thought. They never had steak at home. It was an unimaginable delicacy, foreign to the simple life that a great artist must lead. But here was Sae Niijima, who seemed to be a patron of the arts ordering it as easily as you pleased. Who lived in luxury. The server flinched and turned to him. "And for you, sir?"

No, he must resist. "I'll have the—"

His stomach growled. It must belong to the half of him that was a traitor. Sae frowned. "Order the steak. On me. Please. First lesson: always negotiate from a position of strength. Which means not starving."

"I—"

"Kitagawa."

He sighed. "I'll have the steak as well. "

The server bowed and vanished, but Sae kept frowning at him. Yusuke checked for stains on his shirt and found nothing. "Is something wrong?"

"That's twice now that I've heard your stomach growling. Did you forget to eat again?"

"I had lunch." He shifted in his seat. "An apple. I have to be above worldly things. Mortify the flesh so that I'm receptive to inspiration. Artists don't have the same freedom prosecutors do, as important as your work is."

Sae crossed her arms. "Did Madarame tell you that?"

"Yes."

Her chuckle was a dark thing that made Yusuke's hair stand on end. "I promise you that Madarame has his pleasures. Fine dining. A girlfriend, even. Whatever asceticism you think you've learned from him is not something he practices."

His brain ground to a halt. He tried to imagine Sensei eating at the sort of restaurants he only saw on travel shows and failed. They lived so simply in the atelier. He didn't even have heat in the winter. The idea of Madarame partaking in the kind of luxury he had seen in Sae's apartment was absurd on its face. But not as absurd as the other item. "He has no female companionship. I would know."

"You wouldn't. This is a country built on discretion, the love hotels in Shinjuku and Shibuya most of all. It would be trivial to slip out for a few hours a week, especially since you're at school and he can set his own hours." She softened a bit. "And there's nothing wrong with it, as long as that company is consenting. But he isn't a monk."

"You dislike him. Of course you'd think he was a hypocrite." Why had he thought that he had had a friend here?" You wish to demean him." He stood to go, steak or no steak.

Her arm whipped out and she forced him back down with a surprisingly iron grip. "I'm only demeaning him insofar as he's not guiding you away from mistaken ideas about what you do and do not need to give up to succeed. I once was considered the very best prosecutor in Tokyo, maybe in the country. And I had the money for the apartment. My art collection is substantial." She looked down, and her voice was soft. "And I had someone who cared for me."

The man from the party. Sae had looked like she was looking now, like a proud but wounded crane. He hadn't known whether to embrace her or paint her. He doubted that she would appreciate either. So instead he said, "I'm surprised you weren't distracted. The very best prosecutor in Tokyo. Truly?"

She stared at him in disbelief. He'd put his foot in his mouth again, and even her clear dislike of Sensei didn't justify that. He held up his hands. "I meant no disrespect. I'm sure you're quite skilled."

"You truly don't know? About the Champion of Justice?"

Yusuke searched his memory. The deputy director had called her that, but the title had no meaning for him. "I'm afraid I don't keep up with current events as I should."

"You really don't know?" She laughed, and there was no malice in it this time. Indeed, she seemed as if a great weight had slid from her shoulders, and the fire in her eyes was warm and inviting. "I've met the one person in Tokyo who doesn't know what I did."

"Which was? You're young for a prosecutor, aren't you? It's not usual for junior civil servants to have that standard of living, is it?"

"No." The light died as suddenly as it had come, like a snuffed-out candle. "I was very young and very foolish. There was a new yakuza underboss. His clan was small, but they made up for it in viciousness. They targeted high school students, forced them into prostitution or drug running. Something had to be done, and I have just been assigned to Organized Crime. I promised that I would take him down and that justice would prevail. The media got wind of it, and the higher-ups loved it." Her lips twisted. "I was young, beautiful and ambitious. Everything they needed for a poster girl. There were appearances on morning shows. Licensed merchandise, if you can believe it, even a manga. It all paid very well. And my father and I were so close to bringing the man down."

"What happened?"

"He brought me down first. My father is dead because of my arrogance, and I am..." She made a gesture that encompassed the right side of her body. "And the world has no use for it hideous, crippled prosecutor. No more media, no more Champion. So you see, the world doesn't care about you or me. We must stand on our own."

Their meal arrived before either Sae or Yusuke could say much else, and even the wonder of a hearty, juicy steak couldn't drive the story from his mind. Sae's eyes and hands had captivated him, but there was no denying she possessed acerbity that would drive most away. Could she had been so different before? Could the world be so cruel and fickle as to turn on her? He knew that he had faced hardship, but he had believed that it was because he was defective. If Sae was as brilliant as she claimed, such a fall could happen to anyone. Could Sensei—the man who raised him—really have a secret life?

Sae's gaze traveled to the window, and she scowled. "Looks like I have to rescue Akechi from his fans again. Excuse me." She hobbled stood and hobbled out the door and across the street to where the handsome boy was being crowded by a group of girls.

Had this woman truly suffered so much to transform her so thoroughly? Yusuke took out his phone and opened the Metube app. "Champion of Justice Sae Niijima." The first result was a promising looking news interview so he pressed play.

He blinked. The woman sitting across from the news anchor couldn't be Sae. Her hair and eyes were the right color, and they were approximately the same height, but that was all. It wasn't that mere absence of scars. Her jacket and blazer were both lighter, a rich maroon. Her hair was loose about her shoulders like some woodland creature's. When she smiled, it was as bright as the rest of her and her laugh was so unlike the bitter cackle he had heard today. She spoke of the need to take back their neighborhoods with the same tremulous voice Yusuke heard in himself when he spoke of _Sayuri_. This woman could have conquered Japan with nothing more than that smile and a few carefully chosen words.

He looked out the window. The living Sae's hand hovered over Akechi's shoulder, and her scarred side faced the diner. He looked at the screen. These were somehow the same woman...and he had no desire to paint the aesthetically pleasing one. Perhaps the digital medium erased some essential quality of hers that her injury hadn't destroyed or perhaps it was his own moral defects, but he could see only the sort of paintings that had been done a thousand times before in the Champion. He wanted to know the strange woman who was, not the one who had been. He turned off the phone.

Sae and Akechi returned to the diner. "Goro Akechi, Yusuke Kitagawa. Yusuke Kitagawa, Goro Akechi." She glared at Akechi. "You look pale. Please tell me that you didn't skip lunch too."

He held up his hands and gave the same smile as the Sae in the video. "You know how demanding the life of a student detective can be. I was hoping for a bite of sushi later. Perhaps ice cream. But time got away from me."

She shoved the remainder of her steak at him. "Sit. Eat. Before I decide to have a word with the Ministry of Justice about hiring minors as consultants. "

"You wound me, Sae," he said but sat down all the same.

Goro Akechi. Consulting. Now Yusuke realized where he had seen him before. "You're that consulting detective. The Second Detective King, or something like that."

"Detective Prince," he said with a small smile. "I'd hate for you to give me more honor thant I'm due." He attacked the leftover steak with enthusiasm and answered only with monosyllables when Sae asked him about his day.

It was such an ordinary, commonplace thing. "You aren't how I thought you'd be. How you were out there. I was expecting someone more..."

"Charismatic? They need their heroes, and I provide one to them." He smiled at Sae. "Of course, sometimes I need a hero. And I'm fortunate enough to have one."

"Don't flatter me." Sae's good cheek pinked. "Why don't I take you boys back to the apartment? You can have your ice cream and I have some books on public speaking that Kitagawa might find useful."

Artist, detective, and prosecutor set off towards Yoyogi. Sae walked in the middle of them, her arm hovering over Yusuke's as if she would shield him and Akechi from the world. Yusuke did his best to protect her in turn, matching her erratic stride to shield her from world didn't care about them, she said while feeding him. Maybe they could all care about each other. Let her be acerbic. Let Sensei have his paramour. What determined character wasn't such accidental things, but how they treated others. He must remember that as an artist.

Sae opened the door to her apartment for them and froze. Makoto sat on the couch. The little makeup she wore was running, and her skin was pale. "Sis?" she whispered. "Oh, God, Sis."

Yusuke watched helplessly with Akechi as Sae limped to her with a look of horror on her face. "What's wrong?" She thrust a handkerchief at her. "Deep breaths."

Makoto wiped her eyes. "I—I—"

"Did someone hurt you?"

"No," she said such despair that she seemed to have come from a study of the Last Judgment. "Oh. Sis. A student jumped from the roof today. She tried to kill herself and it's all my fault."

* * *

Sae stared. Makoto had worn an empty look for months after their father died, and Sae had half-hoped never to see it again. The part of her mind that was entirely Sae Niijima, Prosecutor whirred into action. A girl had tried to commit suicide, and Makoto blamed herself. The idea was absurd on its face. Makoto was the sort of girl that was bullied, not the one who did it. Just another bystander wallowing in guilt for not acting. But a suicide attempt was still tragic and it would bring the wrong kind of media scrutiny. She sat beside Makoto on the couch. "What happened? Start at the beginning. She nodded to Kitagawa. "Get her some water, please."

"I'll just help myself to some ice cream, shall I?" Akechi pasted on a smile. "I'll show you where the kitchen is."

"I know where the kitchen is." Kitagawa's brows knitted together in what Sae was beginning to recognize as his annoyed expression. "She can't possibly be to blame. Suicide is a complex phenomenon born of mental illness and social and environmental factors and Makoto can't possibly be all of them."

_Good heavens, he sounds like he's reciting his psychology textbook._ "Water, please," Sae repeated.

But Makoto gave him a broken smile. "I don't believe you, but thank you for saying it."

Sae could have hugged Kitagawa in that moment. "Water," she said for the last time but softly.

Kitagawa relaxed slightly and allowed Akechi to lead him into the kitchen.

Sae exhaled and turned back to Makoto. "Why do you think you're responsible?"

"The teacher I told you about? One of the other students saw her go into his office. Said that she looked scared out of her wits and that it wasn't the first time. Everybody knows Kamoshida rapes the girls on the volleyball team but nobody does anything because he's famous. And I kept my head down and now Suzuki is in a coma!"

"Suguru Kamoshida?" Sae's sports preference had tended more towards kickboxing and judo before her injury, but even she knew who he was: the man who had won gold in Sydney and had deigned to coach high school students, the crowning glory of a school that had many of them. The sort of man that the board would twist themselves into a pretzel to protect. "I asked you that first day if you had any proof? Do you?"

"Everyone knows. They all protect him."

Sae ran a hand through her hair. As she had thought. It might be true, but it might not. Either way, there was very little she could do. But how to explain that to a girl for whom white was white and black was black and who blamed herself when the universe was unjust? She covered Makoto's hand with her free one. "That's hearsay. You and I don't even know for sure that he raped the poor girl. But if he did, then it's his fault. Not yours."

"I'm the student council president. I'm supposed to look out for the younger students." She sniffed. "Can't you do something, Sis?"

Sae swallowed. Of all those the Champion of Justice had glittered for, she had gleamed brightest for her sister. Even almost dying and getting their father killed hadn't put a damper in the belief that Sae had only to snap her fingers and the villains would fall before her. "Not with hearsay, no. It's not even enough to open an investigation. I'd need someone—a student or their parent—to come forward."

"And they never will because Kamoshida makes them into winners. What am I supposed to do when the world is so unfair?"

She closed her eyes and saw her father's corpse trapped in the rubble and staring at her. "It's past time you learned that the world wasn't fair," she whispered. "All we can do is endure."

"Excuse me," said Kitagawa, holding a glass ofwater and looking as if he were about to be ill. "But I believe that there is something you can do."

Sae raised an eyebrow and fought to keep her voice even. "Weren't you ever taught that eavesdropping is rude? What can I do?" _Please tell me how to erase the miserable look in Makoto's eyes_.

"I didn't eavesdrop. The rest of the world is so loud." He looked at her. "You need people to come forward. But it's very hard to come forward. No one believes the victim. Even I know who this Kamoshida is. Who would believe a child over a great man?"

"Who indeed?" His gaze flickered and Sae's heart twisted despite herself. He would know all about great men. She had never thought Madarame would be fool enough to raise a hand to anyone, and for the first time she hoped that he would be better than she expected. Kitagawa had been through enough, and the man who had tried to defend her deserved better. "If someone is hurting you…"

"Not me," he said quickly. "I used to read psychology books to attempt to determine why I'm so odd. And the books said that sometimes people need heroes. Like the Detective Prince. And the Champion of Justice."

The Champion again. The ghost she would never outrun as long as she lived. "I'm not her anymore."

"I know." He didn't sound disappointed. "You are Sae Niijima, prosecutor of the Special Investigation Unit. If you were to tell the students and parents that you would believe their allegations, they wouldn't be afraid to speak."

"You overestimate human nature. Most of the parents probably do know and care more about their child going to the nationals." But something within her stirred. Perhaps it was the dream demon, perhaps the embers of her ambition, perhaps what remained of the Champion of Justice. Special Investigations specialized in bringing down great men. If this was true and she stopped it, no one would dare say that she didn't belong. If…

"Perhaps the world is so vile. But you aren't. If such corruption festers, you can bring it to an end." He took her hand, heedless of Makoto's gasp. So warm, so very warm, just like that first night. Their fingers twined together, and Sae gasped. There were no heroes who could swoop in to save the day with only their will. The world was too corrupt, the game too thoroughly rigged against the innocent. She couldn't be what he and Makoto wanted her to be. But how she wished it weren't so. Wished that all the stories about heroes and knights and princesses were true. Wished that the beast who had been cursed in body and mind might be transformed with a single kiss. "I believe in you," he said.

She was a fool. A romantic, idiotic fool. But Kitagawa and Makoto were looking at her as if she was the only thing standing between them and a great and terrible darkness. The only ones looking at her the way that the whole world once had. It was a lie—she was a lie—but she wanted to live it for their sakes. Sae took out a case of business cards and handed them to Makoto. "Give these to the volleyball team. Let them know that allegations of misconduct will be believed and investigated."

Makoto stared at the cards for a long time. "Thank you, Sis." And she threw her arms around Sae's neck, careful not to press on her right side. Sae froze. Even when her father had been alive, none of them had been physically affectionate. She brought her hands up to Makoto's shoulders and tried to return a gesture that felt suddenly strange and unfamiliar.

"There, there," she whispered. "There's no guarantee that anyone will come forward. Especially not if Kamoshida's grip is as tight as you think."

Makoto pulled back, beaming as if she hadn't heard a word that Sae said. "Thank you," she repeated.

Sae's gaze found Kitagawa's. He was trembling slightly and looked tired, as if his little motivational speech had taken everything out of him. But he gave her a tired smile that made her feel warm. Yes, she would try to live this lie for their sakes. For Makoto's hugs and his smiles that kept the demon at bay for a little while. It need not go any further than giving them hope that one monster could be put down. No harm in that. No harm in enjoying the warmth of embraces and a young man taking her hand. No harm at all.

Sae pulled back. "I think we all deserve a little ice cream." She stood and limped toward the kitchen.

_You never learn, do you? But soon you'll get a reminder._


	5. Riding with the Prosecutor

"The gallery wants more abstracts." Madarame's voice seemed to float over him. "Apparently, there enjoying something of a revival."

Yusuke grimaced and returned to his canvas. This painting—a revision of the Kosei piece incorporating Sae's suggestions—was proving a technical challenge that required all his concentration. Sensei's voice punctured that concentration like a slowly deflating balloon. A little more brown. Market. Finer brushwork here. Critics will be watching closely. Make the white a little less like porcelain. Maybe more pearl...

"Are you listening to me, Yusuke?"

Yusuke blinked. Sensei's brows were knit together and he tapped his foot, as if he had been waiting for some time. Yusuke knew that he should bow his head and apologize, but the traitorous impulses had been growing since his lunch with Sae. "Forgive me, Sensei, but I can't listen to you and paint at the same time."

"Your work pales in comparison to what you do for me. Now pay attention!"

"Then what will you do once I graduate? It will happen soon." What Sae had told him shouldn't have mattered, but it did. The man who was the closest thing he would ever have to a father had lied to him. If Sae wasn't mistaken. "Well you return to your mistress?"

The way Sensei's eyes flashed told Yusuke that Sae hadn't been mistaken. "Who told you that? Niijima? She's a fine one to talk! Cavorting around as if she were at some Roman villa. Orgies, the most vile perversions-I knew I shouldn't have let her have you alone."

Yusuke put up his hands and tried very hard to think about something other than Sae cavorting everywhere. "No, Sensei. It was someone at the benefit who mentioned it in passing." Not even a lie, really. "But that's not important. What is to happen to me once I graduate?"

Sensei softened and put his hand on Yusuke's shoulder. Yusuke fought the urge to flinch. "You're my son, or near enough, and I'm a feeble man. You wouldn't abandon me for the wide world would you? I've spent so much effort protecting you, but I need your protection as well."

This time Yusuke couldn't suppress his flinch. That was it, then. The image came to him, sharp and clear as any painting: himself ten or twenty years older, still living in this shack without a friend or a lover and still taking Sensei's direction as if he were a child. Trapped in amber. Forever. Phantom hands closed around his throat, and his breath came in a choked gasp. "I-I need to get out of here," he spluttered. "I have an appointment with a classmate. I'll be home by dark."

Sensei released him. "See that you are. I have errands of my own to run." He patted Yusuke on the head. "And remember that this is the only place you can belong."

Perhaps not the only place.

Tokyo was its usual noisy, almost unbearably crowded self, but Yusuke made good time to the Niijima's apartment building. A vaguely familiar motorcycle raced down the street and turned toward the parking garage. Yusuke wouldn't have noticed it all except for a cane stuck in a sheath on the back. A cane? A motorcycle? Sae? The three pieces didn't seem to add up, and he took off toward the parking garage in hopes of solving the mystery.

He was out of breath when he got there and had to take a moment to grab a pillar and collect himself. The unknown rider parked in the space next to Sae's Clexus, dismounted, and removed her helmet. Yusuke's mouth went dry. It was Sae. Not the woodland creature he had seen on his phone, but someone wild, primal. Her hair was tousled, with strands that fell almost but not quite in front of her mouth. Her leather jacket and pants curved to her body. He wanted to follow those curves with his hands and know if the leather felt as good as it looked. And she was smiling, unguarded, eyes and face shining like flame. Yes, flame, if the heat answering through him was any indication. He licked his lips. It wasn't that he was incapable of desire or crushes or whatever one preferred to call it, but he thought he had buried those feelings after the first half-dozen rejections.

Apparently not.

She noticed him, and the smile dimmed. "Kitagawa? What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you." Sweat formed along his brow, and heat spread across his cheeks. "I-I didn't know that you rode a bike."

"Yes. A Tawakaki Shinobi. Bought her a few years back. Three hundred horsepower. One hundred pounds of torque. Supercharged, fuel injected engine. Could probably turn on a one yen piece." Her words came faster and faster as she spoke. He saw, not the brilliant charm of the Champion of Justice, but Sae Niijima unguarded and very pleased with herself. Yes, he wanted to touch her and paint her. Possibly see if what Sensei had said about her and Roman villas was true.

"Am I boring you?" she asked. "I must sound like a dealer."

Please keep talking. "No, no. I rather like it. Though it does seem incongruous with your image as a prosecutor." What little brain function he had ground to a halt. "And I didn't know it was possible for an injured person to ride one."

Her face closed up, and Yusuke realized the depths of his error. "Well, it is possible. I won't be an invalid waiting to die. I've had to give up enough as it is."

He bowed his head. "I-I misspoke. You looked remarkable just now. If was so alien to me. I hardly know what to say."

He heard rather than saw her take a deep breath. The cane sounded unevenly on the pavement. "No, I don't suppose you would." She put a gloved finger under his chin and forced it up gently but firmly to look at her. So he did. The heat on his face deepened. She was beautiful with her fringes and her slightly parted lips and sleek lines of her. He wished he had seen it before now. He wished he could duck away so she couldn't see all of that playing across his face. His breath caught as she moved her thumb slowly, so slowly from his chin up to the corner of his mouth. He wished he could read her better because the surprise he thought he saw made no sense. "It's been a long time since someone spoke to me like you do," she whispered.

Her thumb slid down and off his face but she made no move to back away. Yusuke could smell the leather of her gear. He'd always associated the scent, if he thought of it at all, with those who were nor quite proper. But Sae was proper. And she looked powerful like this. Free. "What is it like?" he managed, eager to prolong the moment. "Riding?"

Sae blinked. "I—riding? Oh, the bike." Her gaze was appraising as she looked at him. "I wonder…would you like to go for a ride?"

Go for a ride? On a motorcycle? That seemed like the sort of thing other people did, and the sort of thing that Sensei wouldn't like. "I don't know. Is it quite safe?"

"As long as you're properly geared. And I have a spare set that I think will fit you." Her eyes sparkled, and her voice seemed to burrow into him. "There's nothing like the feel of the wind on you and knowing that the power under you is doing what you want."

Well, then. Wasn't the whole purpose of his friendship with the Niijimas to expose him to the things other people did? "Lead on."

Makoto was sitting in the table as they entered the apartment, reading a textbook. She looked up as they entered. "Sis? Kitagawa?"

Sae smiled. "How was school? Almost done with your homework?"

"Almost." She looked uncertain. "Has anyone called you about the… other thing? The rumor is that the transfer student and a delinquent barged into his office."

"Nobody called. You had to know that this would be a longshot."

Yusuke winced. His art had more than won him a scholarship to Kosei, but there had still been whispers that the "odd boy" wouldn't fit in. He'd checked every psychology book he could find out of the library in an effort to make himself more normal, and there he found the information about abuse. But words on a page weren't real world action. He'd hoped that Sae could be the spark of hope for the girl. It seemed they needed a bigger spark.

Sae was speaking again. "Could you help Kitagawa get the spare motorcycle gear out of storage? I want to take him for a ride."

Makoto's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." She exhaled. "And maybe I'll let you take the bike for a spin next week. No reason you shouldn't pass for your license on a first try."

"Thanks." Her voice still sounded far away. Clearly, this was the day for the Niijimas to have reactions that made no sense to Yusuke. "Come on, we keep everything in a closet in my room."

Makoto led him through a hallway. There was more art here, and Yusuke took his time to marvel. Paintings by up and coming artists who had been forging a path away from Sensei for years. He stared at an abstract like his own that was all wild purples and wilder brushstrokes that danced on the edge between freedom and sloppiness, but never quite fell over. No wonder Sae hadn't been impressed with his first attempt. "You have more space in the front room. Why keep such treasures back here where so few people can see them?"

"We used to, in the old place. Dad would joke that Sis had turned his apartment into a museum. But with the fire... She lost a lot of it and what she didn't, well I guess she figured most of it was better off back here or in storage. But some of it is finally coming out. "

She led him into a bedroom with a panda on the desk and a poster of a cop movie that come out a few years ago on the wall. Makoto opened the closet, pulled out a cardboard box and rifled through it until she produced a leather jacket, pants, and gloves almost identical to what Sae wore. "I'll give you some privacy to change," she said quickly and all but bolted from the bedroom.

Stranger and stranger. It wasn't as if he would have taken his clothes off in front of her. The gear was too big at his shoulders, but otherwise it fit wonderfully. He felt snug, protected. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked different as well. Older. He stood straighter. No wonder Sae liked it so much. "Ready," he called.

Makoto returned. Her eyes were wide yet again. "You look different," she said. "And not like him."

Irritation pricked Yusuke's good mood. "You've acted like I was a ghost since I entered. I know I can be eccentric, but that's no cause to be rude. Why are you staring so?"

She looked down. "It's silly. But that was Dad's gear. He taught Sis how to ride, and he used to sneak me for trips all over Shibuya. You're the first person to wear his stuff in years."

Ah. Sometimes he forgot that there were ghosts in this apartment. "I'll take good care of it then, and bring it back to you in good condition." No doubt there was something wittier or more comforting that he was supposed to say, but Yusuke didn't know what it was.

"Thanks. And don't tell Sis that you know where the gear came from. And thank you again."

Yusuke tilted his head to one side. "You've already thanked me."

"No, not for that. For helping to get things out of storage."

"But it was your sister's idea." Someday he would be able to decipher how some people could hold entirely different conversations from the ones Yusuke thought he was holding.

Yusuke grabbed the helmet, and he and Makoto returned to Sae. She started when she saw him. Was her father's ghost hovering over him like it had for Makoto? Yusuke hoped not. He didn't want to compete with a dead man for her memory and attention. Especially not her father. He shook his head. As if he consumed any of her attention, that moment in the parking garage aside. But her eyes weren't wide like Makoto's had been. She looked pleased. "It does suit you. You look like you've been riding motorcycles your whole life."

"No, today really is my first time. But it is amazingly comfortable, and the sensation on my skin is quite pleasing. Thank you."

A flush crept over Sae's good side. "No trouble. I thought we'd grab some sushi. Akechi told me that they're doing some construction, so we'll have to take the long way around, but I should have you back in plenty of time to take the train home." She nodded to Makoto. "I should be back before dark, but there's no need to hold dinner. Stay out of trouble."

"You know me. Always the good girl." She looked between Yusuke and Sae and swallowed. "You be careful too, Sis. I love you."

Sae looked at a point just over Makoto's left shoulder. "I... I'm always careful. Finish the rest of your homework."

The motorcycle was as Sae had left it, but she still limped around it and did a number of checks Yusuke didn't understand. She moved more fluidly though, with little of the awkwardness she had in the apartment. Finally, she seemed satisfied. "Put your helmet on."

Yusuke did, and the world darkened as a brown filter was placed over his eyes. The fit was snug, but nothing uncomfortable. "I feel as if I'm wearing armor. A surprisingly safe feeling."

"Well, hitting the pavement at eighty kilometers an hour will still hurt, so don't get cocky. But I know what you mean. Nice and snug and anonymous." She smiled at him. "Ready?"

"As close as one gets." A niggling thought wormed its way through his brain. "Only, I don't see a sidecar."

"We won't be using one. You'll be riding on the back behind me."

Riding? Behind Sae? Holding on to Sae? He imagined clinging on to her, flush against her back with only the leather of their jackets separating them. Heat spiraled through him. "Is that safe?"

"Oh yes, quite safe. Just try not to grab my right shoulder." She frowned. "We don't have to. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable wasn't quite the word. But Yusuke was done being timid. Sae wanted him to hold on to her. That should be enough for anybody. "I'm willing to try if you are. You said it was only a short ride, correct?"

Sae smiled again, radiant and brilliant as the sun breaking through the clouds. "Excellent." She put on her own helmet and extended a hand to help him onto the motorcycle. Even through the gloves, Yusuke could feel the warmth and solidness of her hand in his. But it was nothing compared to when she had put her cane in its holder and climbed aboard. Yusuke clung to her as if his life depended on it, and from the way his heart was hammering, maybe it did. The heat spiraling through him became an inferno. He had read of artists consumed with a beautiful woman, but it seemed ridiculous and a little pathetic, even as he appreciated what they created. But just now, he felt the furthest thing from pathetic.

He was coming out of storage as well.

The engine roared to life, and Yusuke was lost. He had experienced Tokyo on foot, by train, and in Sensei's car, but all those things were sedate by comparison to where he found himself. The wind buffeted him even through his jacket, and he didn't so much see the city streets as have a brown-hued kaleidoscope of city life impressed on his eyeballs. Here a pedestrian crossing a street. Right turn. There a screen broadcasting a news program. He wished he could paint the swirl of urban life that had been revealed to him, but all Yusuke could do was hold on to the only solid thing in this suddenly malleable world.

His adventure came to a sudden halt as Sae turned left and was confronted by flashing arrows and a road crew just beyond. "Odd." Her voice was barely audible over the din. "Akechi must have mixed up where the construction was. Hold on. Things are about to get a little twisty."

She wasn't joking. An endless parade of turns that left Yusuke's stomach somewhere around his throat followed. Sae's posture never changed, and when they at last reached the restaurant she hopped off the motorcycle as if she had never been burned. She removed her helmet, and her hair was gloriously askew in a way that made Yusuke want to run his fingers through it. Her good side was flush, and her small smiles had been replaced by a genuine grin. Galtea of the cold marble transfigured to living flesh.

Sae helped him down again and helped him remove his helmet. Yusuke was suddenly, sharply aware of how close they were. The sights and sounds of the city faded away until she seemed the only real thing in existence. Her warm breath caressed his skin. It would be the simplest thing in the world to close the infintisemal distance between them, bend his head the tiniest fraction and brush his lips against hers. Another thing that he had never done. A kiss and almost unbelievable intimacy that belonged to the rest the world. Impossible for Yusuke, as separated as he was from the rest of mankind. But as Sae stared at him, it seemed frightfully possible. All he had to do was lean in.

The shopkeepers bell rang as a gaggle of tourists poured from the restaurant and the moment was lost. Sae leaned back as much as her leg would allow as walls went up in front of Yusuke's eyes. "I need to get my cane." Her voice was shaky and not unkind, but the vital woman who had made him lose his mind had vanished. "I'm glad you enjoyed the trip."

"I did." Yusuke cursed himself inwardly. Whatever he had felt was madness and delusion, nothing more. Prosecutors did not develop infatuations with poor artists with the social skills of lobsters. She would want someone like the man that she had been in love with: handsome and charming and surrounded by beautiful things. And even if he weren't insane, he was still a high school student with no experience in the world who wouldn't know what to do if Sae were to hit her head and develop a passionate infatuation with him. So he stepped back and let her grab her cane with as much dignity as he could muster.

That was when he saw the car speeding towards her. Time slowed. Sae was facing away from the street. Even if she turned and saw the car, there was no way for her to clear its path in time given how slowly she was forced to walk. She would go flying, and all her gear and safety precautions would be as nothing. Panic and adrenaline fired through him. No. He wouldn't let that happen. "Sae!" he screamed and took a a flying leap.

They tumbled to the pavement and the next few seconds were stuffed with a collage of sensations: the car roaring past, distant screams, Sae beneath him, his his lungs burning, metal twisting and groaning. His breaths were short and shallow as one thought filled his mind. We are supposed to be dead by now we are not.

Sae whimpered under him, forcing him to some semblance of reality. Her good half had gone pale, and her eyes were glazed with pain. Yusuke scrambled off her and stood to find a nightmare. The car that had nearly hit her had crashed into the wall of a Burger Lord. The front was barely recognizable as a car. Onlookers were screaming or staring in shocked horror, and sirens wailed in the distance. He looked down at Sae, still in shock. She was probably in better shape than the driver. Probably. "Somebody, please call a paramedic for my friend."

He knelt beside Sae, sweat from exertion and sheer terror pouring down his face. "Are you all right?"

"My leg," she croaked.

Oh, of course. He looked and saw her cane in the middle of the street. He had pushed her out of the way, heedless of her injuries, and now she was hurt. What a fool he was. "I'm so sorry."

"No. I heard the car." She winced and touched his cheek. "You saved me."

"Yusuke?" said Sensei. "What are you doing here? Is that a leather jacket?"

Yusuke bolted to his feet and turned around. Sensei had pushed himself to the head of the crowd. He was almost as pale as Sae, save for two spots of color on his cheeks. "I thought you said you had an appointment with a classmate? I ask again: what do you think you're doing?"

Yusuke opened his mouth. The adventure with the motorcycle, his sudden discovery of infatuation, the terror of nearly being hit by a car vanished in the face of Sensei's anger and he saw himself as his guardian did: a foolish boy who had lied to the only father he had ever known. There would be no more adventures. "I-"

"That boy is a hero," said one of the onlookers. "That woman would have been dead if it wasn't for him."

Others were nodding in agreement and murmuring "hero." Sensei's anger dissipated like smoke. "A hero," he said with the same voice he used for the press. "Well, of course he is. The boy's been steeped in every classical virtue. And I suppose I must allow you your little adventures."

Paramedics and police officers swarmed over the scene and Yusuke lost sight of even Sae as the first responders worked. Sensei seized Yusuke by the shoulder. "This will be all over the news, and you will be the boy who saved a public prosecutor from certain death," he whispered. "This new association might be very useful indeed."

A few minutes later, two officers approached him. "We'd like you to come to the station and give a statement," said the elder. "Bit of a waste of time if you ask me, but the higher-ups do love their paperwork."

"Why is it a waste of time? I was a witness."

"Oh, we already know what happened," said the younger with a theatrical shudder. "It was another one of those mental shutdowns. The driver completely lost his mind."


	6. Gamblers

Of course it would be here. The _koban_ in Shibuya was identical to the hundreds of others in Tokyo and most days it handled nothing more strenuous than tourists who needed directions. And until twelve years ago, it had been the assignment of Akiyoshi Niijima, a patrolman who was long overdue for promotion by had been too ethical to play politics. The other officers were always giving Sae sweets to the consternation of her mother. He'd finally made detective during her third year, and she had thought never to enter the place again.

Her hands shook and her leg throbbed. Nothing more than a scrape, the paramedics had said, and sent her off here to dutifully say that she had almost been hit by a car. Kitagawa had saved her life. She hadn't even seen the vehicle until after the first responder had pulled her into a sitting position. That was perhaps fortunate. She hadn't had a moment of pure terror as she knew death was coming for her and been unable to stop it.

_Sae looked up from her investigation notebook. "Do you smell something?" She sniffed. It smelled almost like kerosene. There was a thud outside the door, and oily liquid poured through. Kaneshiro had promised he would come for her. She hadn't known that he would be so melodramatic about it. "Run!"_

And this time she didn't know who had come for her or why. Some rational part of her reminded her that she didn't even know for certain that anyone was coming for her at all. The driver and two people had died, far worse than twisting an already crippled limb. There were whispers already of another mental shutdown. Was Sae part of the as-yet-unknown pattern, or was the target someone inside the restaurant? Or the driver? Had Kitagawa saved her from accident or assassination?

Kitagawa. What had she been thinking? He had been thunderstruck by the sight of her in gear, and another part of her that had been burned to ashes had risen to answer the call. She had put her fingers under his chin and felt once more like the woman who had had known not only a city at her feet but a lover who adored her and who she adored in return. Kitagawa had taken to the bike as if he had been born to it, and his obvious pleasure had refracted and scattered over her like sunlight through a mirror. And then, outside the restaurant…he had been about to kiss her and in the moment before good sense had reasserted itself, she had wanted him to. Wanted, just for a moment, to find some respite from the loneliness that plagued them both. But her ethics had wrestled her hormones into submission. She would have to be more careful, for both their sakes.

Even if he had been warm and soft. She groaned. Why was she even thinking about this?

The door flew open, and Akechi rushed in. His skin was ashen, and he smelled faintly of vomit. "Sae! Are you all right? I I came as soon as I heard. You were never supposed—are you all right?"

His terror would have been sweet if Sae weren't close to being sick herself. "I'm as well as can be expected, thanks to Kitagawa. You got your streets mixed up."

His laugh was broken, hysterical. "I did. You who have been the kindest to me of all prosecutors and the last one I should want to see hurt." His raised his hand as if he was going to put it on her shoulder, but thought better of it and let it fall back to his side. "These mental shutdowns are plaguing more and more innocents each day. I can only hope that they come to an end soon."

Sae forced down the panic in her gut. "You have confirmation that it was a shutdown?"

"I do. The driver died on impact, but it seemed he was behaving erratically at his workplace. I'm sure your director will be happy to assign someone to look into it now that one of his own has been threatened."

"The only person who will be assigned is me." She could just imagine how her director would want to play things. Put her on yet another leave of absence while she "recovered" and assign some handpicked prosecutor fresh off his internship that he could mold into a protégé. She would forever be branded a useless cripple who should have died with her father. "Who's the perp? Or should I say the victim, under the circumstances?"

"You can't be serious."

"What's. His. Name?"

Akechi sighed. "Hideki Akedi. He was a gallerist in Hiroo. No family or romantic interests, but I did turn up one interesting bit of trivia. He was a former pupil of Madarame's, though he never amounted to much as a painter himself."

"Madarame?" As much as Sae despised the man, she had never thought him capable of criminal activity himself. His associates were another matter. She would have to interview both him and the gallery owner. She had shut herself away from the glittering art world three years ago because it had seemed to be for a woman who glittered herself. Kitagawa had nudged her back into it, but now there was no choice but to head back to the land where connections mattered even more than wealth, and where the noveau riche and the outright criminal were eager to give their money a sheen of respectability. The world where a policeman's daughter had worked desperately to wash away the stink of secondhand bikes and succeeded. "I had best get to work. If there's a link between the gallery or Madarame and the mental shutdowns, I need to find it as soon as possible."

"You may not like what you find," he said softly. "If there is a conspiracy behind the mental shutdowns as you fear, then these would be people far deadlier than even the yakuza. Are you certain that you want to pry into their business?"

_"I wanted to come personally to thank you for your years of service." The director of the Organized Crime division had been the closest thing that Sae had had to her mother since middle school, and she looked more matronly than usual standing at Sae's bedside with the same sympathetic look as all her well-wishers. Sae was beginning to hate it. "Poor Akiyoshi."_

_Sae closed her eyes._ Poor Dad _was utterly inadequate. He had finally made detective after all those years, only to be murdered helping his daughter for some pathetic notion of justice. His blood was on her hands. She had been warned, but she had thought she could save the city from Kaneshiro when everyone else had failed. But there was no justice, was there? Not when the finest officer of the TMPD had been murdered and the man who had ordered it walked free. This was no fairytale. The real world was...a casino and Sae had lost all but one chip._

_"We'll give you a commendation, of course. I'm sure a position in can be found for you. We need a mind like yours in the archives."_

_The archives were a place for old men to stare out windows and do nothing as they waited for gold watches. That was what the world expected of her now. But no. There was no justice, but there were power, wealth, and glory. She was all Makoto had now, and if Sae had never been maternal, she could at least see that her beloved sister never lacked for anything. She would take that last chip and she would learn how to be the best player in the game. "No, ma'am. I will not wait for death to take me. I will prosecute more cases. If you won't have me back, then someone will."_

The present reasserted itself as Akechi waited for her answer. "If I don't pry, then I may as well have let Kaneshiro kill me."

He exhaled sharply. "I don't know why I asked. Your tenacity has always been remarkable. I will assist you in whatever way I can. Public servants can't be murdered in the streets, and if there truly is a conspiracy, perhaps the people responsible will find themselves more expendable than they believed."

"Criminals are always expendable to the people above them on the food chain. We'll find someone who laundered money or some other white-collar crime and we'll convince them to turn on their masters before the master turns on them. So, the gallery and Madarame."

"I'm sure Kitagawa would be delighted at us poking around his teacher's business."

There was that, wasn't there? A dull knife twisted in her chest. He had been defensive when she had brought up Madarame's mistress. Sae could imagine the quiet rage that would seize Kitagawa then. It would kill his infatuation as quickly as it had begun. He probably wouldn't want to see her anymore. Everything we go back the way it was before she had met him in the SIU office. She ought to have been thrilled. Ought. "I'll head to the gallery first. If there's a financial connection to the conspiracy, it'll likely be through that. And if Madarame is involved, it'll be easier to pressure him with actual evidence."

"I see," Akechi said. "I have to be going. Cram school waits for no man." But instead of leaving, he took her hand. Sae froze in surprise. Casual touching was rare, and Akechi was scrupulously proper. His skin was hard and rough, a sharp contrast to his delicate features. "Please don't take this as some advance, but I wanted you to know that I do...care for you. You can confide in me if you need a friend. I would hate for a heart as strong as yours to become distorted through loneliness. You deserve to be safe."

Sae swallowed. She didn't know what to do with genuine concern, now that so much of it was mixed with condescension and now that the specter of death had risen again. So she patted Akechi on the arm. "Thank you. I'll be all right. Could you tell Makoto for me? She'll be worried sick if she gets this from the news first."

He deflated visibly, and a vague pang of guilt struck her. "I'll do that. Take care of yourself, Sae. I really do want to be safe." He rose stiffly and walked out the door.

Sae spent the next hour awash in questions and paperwork. The officers were polite but visibly anxious. None of them knew what to do about these cases that were increasingly acquiring an aura of the supernatural. Pain slithered through her like water through cracks in the wall. Sae grit her teeth. Tonight would be one that required painkillers. She wasn't looking forward to finding out what the dream demon would have to say about her brush with death or losing her head over Kitagawa.

Finally, it was over and Sae shuffled out of the _koban_. Her bike was still at the accident scene, and she doubted she had the energy to ride in any case. She'd have to call someone to pick it up and catch the 7:05 train and-

"Ms. Niijima, are you all right?"

Sae started. Kitagawa stood almost right in front of her, still wearing his motorcycle gear. He was even paler than normal, and his hair was askew. "They continued asking me the most tedious questions, and no one would tell me how you were."

"I'm fine. Just a little fatigued. Once I sleep it off, it'll be like nothing happened."

"But something did happen." He took a half step towards her. "I heard whispers of mental shutdowns and psychotic rampages. That's what you're investigating, isn't it? I wanted to make sure that you were safe."

So much concern after years of being forgotten. It made it hard to walk away even when she should. "I'm safe. It's my job to investigate crimes, no matter the danger." _Even if I'm merely throwing myself back into the fire._ "I'm not weak. Just very tired and very sore."

His lips turned up the tiniest fraction. "No, you're not weak. You're quite sturdy actually." He glanced down briefly. "But if you're already fatigued and in pain, you'll have to walk as far as the station. Would it help if I walked with you and took some of the weight?"

She should say no. They needed time and distance for her to reassert boundaries. But pain in her leg leapt like the flames. She'd need to exert herself as little as possible if she wanted to show up to work tomorrow and prevent her director from placing her on leave. Fate must despise her. "Yes, please."

He was as warm and solid and Sae remembered. It would be so easy simply to trust herself to him and damn the consequences. Their pace was glacial, and she must have seemed to passersby like a drunk or worse. Kitagawa didn't seem to notice the stares and didn't complain about having to match his strides to her shuffles, but walked on in dogged silence.

A block from the station, her pain flared up again and she faltered. Kitagawa caught her and held her upright. "You need to rest. We'll sit down over there," he said and gestured to a bench at an outdoor café that was already closed for the evening.

Sae didn't even have the strength to protest as he all but dragged her there. She sank onto the bench and Kitagawa sat beside her. He kept a hand on her back to steady her. So warm. Dangerous. "I can probably make it home from here. I don't want you getting in trouble."

"Oh, Sensei is ecstatic. Apparently my 'heroics' as he calls them reflect well on him and will bring much-needed positive publicity to the exhibition. As if anyone wouldn't have pushed you out of the way." He shook his head. "As much as you and Makoto have helped me, there's still so much I don't understand about the business side of the art world."

Well, if she couldn't muster the strength to send him away, she might as well get some use out of her insanity. And think about something besides her pain and the warmth of his hand. "They identified the driver. Hideki Ikeda. He used to be a student of Madarame's. Do you remember him?"

Kitagawa stiffened. "I remember him. He and Sensei argued quite frequently. He was focused on only the commercial side of art, and it was reflected in his skill. And he was always hitting me and breaking my things," he whispered. Then, louder and more quickly, "Forgive me. You are asking me if I know anything more recent. He got a job with the Natsumi Gallery. I believe he did quite well for himself from the way Sensei spoke."

Sae swore under her breath. Shinzo Natsumi was one of the most influential gallerists in the city, with a reputation for finding and creating sensations of artists who might have otherwise been dismissed by the conservative wing of the art press. He had represented Benjiro, and Sae had considered him a friendly acquaintance before her injuries. He'd have no use for her as she was now, and even less for the kind of publicity her investigation would bring. "Oh, this will be delightful."

"Delightful? I can't imagine—ah, sarcasm. "

She smiled despite herself. "See? You're learning. Just once, I would like these investigations to lead to someone with no influence who can't possibly hurt me."

"But if they had no influence, you wouldn't be needed." He took a deep breath, and his voice was slow and grave. "I swear on my honor that I will do my best to protect you, whether that be from out-of-control vehicles, gallery owners, or whatever other horrors await."

So sweet. "It's not your problem."

He took her hand and threaded their fingers together. The pleasant heat rose higher, taking the edge off the pain. "I want it to be. You've awakened a part of me that I didn't even know existed." And then, shaking, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

The city seemed to freeze around them. It had been three years since anyone had kissed he,r still longer since such gallantry. She wanted more. Wanted to kiss him properly and watch blush spread across his cheeks. Wanted just a little more of that warmth and being held. She shivered. It would be so easy to have all that.

But no. "Don't. You're a minor, and I'm a prosecutor. Unless pigs start flying and Madarame gives his permission, even dating is a violation of the Civil Code."

He recoiled as it he had been struck. "Ms. Niijima..."

"It wouldn't be fair to you." She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "You're a good boy. A good man. Girls should be throwing themselves at you. Find one your own age that you can actually do something with."

"I see." His gray eyes were dull as he disentangled himself and stood. "Thank you for your kindness to me. If you're certain that you can make it home, I should be going." He walked away like a man going to his execution.

Sae waited until his back was to her before she let the tears fall. It was what the law demanded. It was bitterly unfair. Men paid high school girls to date them every day the week. Kaneshiro forced children to be sex slaves and drug mules. And they got away with it. She couldn't even hold the hand of one boy who wanted her?

He kept walking. He, perhaps, would indeed find one of those girls. Perhaps. If the world was kinder than it had been so far. And she? She would treasure these last few weeks as a splash of color in an endless canvas of gray. Her heart had been broken before, and worse. This too would pass.

Something wild and sharp coursed through her and crowded out the pain. _No. If the game is rigged so that I always lose, then I'll cheat._ The Civil Code was vague, and what constituted dating seemed to depend on who was doing it and who was deciding. What Madarame didn't know wouldn't hurt her. "Kitagawa," she said and her voice broke, "come back."

He turned, blinking in confusion but obediently crossed the distance to stand in front of her. Sae cleared her throat. She had had any man she wanted wrapped around her finger once upon a time, but now her words and thoughts seemed to jumble together. "Having you in my life has made me happier than I have been in some time. We would have to be discreet, and there are things I won't do for my own honor's sake, but I would like very much for you to stay in my life."

His face transformed with the biggest, most disbelieving grin that she had ever seen. "Oh, yes! Yes! That is, on one condition. Would you do me the considerable honor of calling me Yusuke?

"Yusuke. And you can call me Sae." She wiped the tears from her eyes and took his hand in hers. Despite all that had happened today, she felt more like a human being than she had in years. "Would you like to go to the Natsumi Gallery with me?"


	7. Natsumi Gallery

Yusuke jammed his thumbnail into his palm and was rewarded with a pricking pain, but he still didn't wake up. He was standing here in the Natsumi Gallery, the place where Sensei said that the decadent currents of the art world found their purest expression. He stared at the small statute of a naked woman, done in the style of a children's animation with large eyes and even larger breasts. He felt no embarrassment, no erotic energy, merely fascination. It was a fusion of high and popular art. An intriguing mashup of things that shouldn't have gone together but did.

His erotic energy was saved from the woman beside him. Very little had changed over the last few days. Sae had made no attempt to kiss him, and he hadn't found the nerve again, but the air seemed permanently charged. Every smile, every whiff of her perfume, every time she brushed against him sent electricity coursing through him. This was the romance of poets: secretive, chaste, and tying him thread by thread to the rest of humanity.

"I see Taro still has his thing for magical girls," Sae said with a dry smile. "At least she's not wearing a sailor uniform this time."

Yusuke raised an eyebrow. "You don't like it? I find his repurposing of commercial art fascinating. I was taught to choose elevated subjects, but he's using his skills to elevate the mundane, even pornographic, instead. It makes me wonder what I've overlooked."

"Hm." She put her free hand under her chin. "I still find him a little too derivative of Warhol."

"Every pop artist owes to Warhol. You might as well say that Van Gogh was derivative of Manet because he was the father of the Impressionist movement. We all stand on the shoulders of giants."

Sae's expression didn't change, and Yusuke cringed. Who did he think he was? Sae knew so much more of this part of the art wold. Sensei always said that he valued his own opinions too highly. He had had a girlfriend for a little more than a week, and he had already made a hash of it. "My apologies. My enthusiasm got the better of me."

"Don't apologize. Just because I don't like him doesn't make him a bad artist. Bad artists don't get represented by Natsumi, and some of the critics love the guy."

"Really?"

She smiled at him. Not the Champion's dazzling grin, but small and private. "Isn't part of Madarame's training in developing your own eye and style? Trust yourself, not me."

"Even though..." He looked around to make sure that they weren't being observed. "...even though we are what we are?"

"Especially so. Always feel free to disagree with me. Loudly if need be." She put a hand on his shoulder. "First step in any relationship, even unconventional ones: set boundaries and stick to them."

His skin crawled at the pressure. He didn't know why his body rebelled at such an ordinary gesture, but he had never been able to more than tolerate it for Sensei's sake. "Do you mean that? Then could you move your hand a little? The sensation is unpleasant."

Her hand dropped to her side. She didn't seem upset. "Done."

Still... "I apologize. My body doesn't react to touch appropriately sometimes."

"Stop apologizing." Irritation crept into her voice. "The only people I want to make him uncomfortable are suspects, ableists, and misogynists. You are none of those things." She took his arm. "Is this better?"

His skin didn't crawl. "You feel quite solid actually."

"Then once more into the breach." She looked to the left, where a man in a tailored suit was making his way towards them. "Don't look now, but here comes Natsumi."

Yusuke swallowed. It would be all right. Natsumi was only one of the most influential members of the art world outside of Sensei's circle, a prototype of the gallerists he would have to deal with once he was independent. Offending him would only be professional disaster.

"Easy," Sae whispered. "Slow, deep breaths."

He had seen pictures of Shinzo Natsuki. Impeccable suits and even more impeccable graying hair. The real man was somehow colder, the tastemaker who would guide his clients to getting what they wanted before they new themselves. "Niijima? I never thought I'd see you here again. Especially since..." He gestured toward her face. "Well, my gallery doesn't seem your style anymore."

"I was crippled, not blinded. And I'm here for work." She tapped her lapel badge. "Hideki Ikeda worked for you."

"Ah." He stiffened. "I promise you that his work here was in no way a contributing factor to him losing his mind, and if I'd known he was a drug addict, I would have fired him on the spot." He shook his head. "I should have fired him anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

"If I tell you, will you leave me alone and not drag my name through the mud?"

"That depends entirely on what you tell me, now doesn't it?" Her eyes were hard. "It must have been very difficult for you, all the negative publicity this past week. I promise you that if you don't cooperate with the investigation, well, I do still have some media contacts and not assisting when a public servant was nearly run over looks an awful lot like complicity."

"You were never this vicious before. Going straight to threats? You should be ashamed of yourself."

Sae recoiled as if she had been slapped. "May I remind you which public servant was nearly killed?" she whispered. "If someone's trying to kill me, then I damn well want to know why!"

Yusuke's stomach churned. Sae had been gruff and abrasive, but she had never been frightening before. The harshness seemed to come over her like a sudden summer storm. The smooth half of her face was like porcelain, but the crimson in her eyes that had so captivated him was a fire that could consume as well as warm. Physically diminished she might have been, but she still had the power to destroy those she pleased. And she might use it.

"Right." He looked around, but the gallery was all but deserted at the hour. "Ikeda was obsessed with making money in the short term. You know how important it is to make sure the right person is the first sale, so that our clients don't find their value at auction plummeting because we sold to some speculator who would flip at the drop of a hat. But Ikeda? He'd sale to new money who had no sense of the value of art and just wanted an investment." He frowned. "I can't prove it, but one or two guys came in here that I had to have thrown out. Tattoos peeking out of their suits, if you take my meaning."

The color drained from Sae's face, and she groped blindly for Yusuke's arm. "Ikeda was working with the yakuza?"

"He worked with lots of people. He didn't strike me as the type to be under their thumb, but he didn't care who he sold to as long as the money kept flowing in. Didn't give a damn about the gallery's reputation." He smiled, like a wolf showing his canines. "But you would know more about the criminal element then I would."

"I-I'll need to see those records." Her voice was quiet. "I'll do my best to keep the information anonymous. No need for reprisals."

"I'll have it sent to your office. No need for subpoenas either." There was something cloying in his voice that Yusuke didn't like. "If you want my opinion, there's nothing sinister about this and you just have the world's worst luck. He was a student of Madarame's and every single one of those are garbage. He was probably drunk or high while he was driving."

Yusuke stiffened and leaned further on Sae. He couldn't have heard properly. "What's wrong with Madarame? He's a great man."

Natsumi sniffed. "He's a great painter. As a teacher, he's pathetic. Every single one of his students is a neurotic flameout. Some of them get lucky and get jobs on the business side, but no way would I take one on as a client. Either they drink themselves to death or the critics kill their career on the first show and then they drink themselves to death."

"What?" Cold settled over Yusuke. _Sayuri_ was the greatest painting of the last fifty years. A dozen young painters had flocked to the atelier to learn Sensei's methods. Sensei could be harsh and mercurial, and Yusuke had heard loud voices through the closed door to his study more than once, but a bad teacher? He was the only student left, but before that he and Natsuhiko and the others had been a happy family. "No, you must be mistaken. "

"And who are you? Do you normally bring kids to your investigations, Niijima?"

"I-what?" Sae blinked and it seemed to take her a great deal of effort to concentrate. "Oh. I thought it would be useful for Mr. Kitagawa to see alternative voices in contemporary art. He's a student of Madarame's, you see."

"Oh, I see." His soft, sweet tone grew thicker. "Enjoy the exhibit. And as a personal bit of advice, get away from Madarame. "

"Don't." Yusuke clenched his teeth. "He's my guardian. He took me in when I had no one else. Cease this slander."

"Then I feel sorry for you, kid. Maybe he's changed or maybe you're a one-in-a-million genius, but my advice is to start thinking about graphic design or animation because I've never seen any of Madarame's students on this side of the gallery. If that will be all, I've got an American coming in for a private showing in twenty minutes."

"That will be all." Sae's voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

Yusuke felt hollow as they exited into Hiroo. It was another well-heeled neighborhood of upscale stores and pedestrians in fine clothes that he could only dream of affording. The sort of people he had imagined might one day might buy his art. Except not, apparently. How could Sensei be so terrible? There had to be more to this. It wasn't as if Sensei respected Natsumi's taste.

Sae wobbled dangerously beside him, forcing Yusuke back to the present. He put a hand on her back to steady her. The color hadn't returned to her cheeks. She looked sick, come to think of it. "Are you all right? Do you need to sit down?"

She shivered. "Yes. Somewhere private."

Yusuke wasn't sure where they were going to find a private space in the middle of a megalopolis, but Sae looked in desperate need. He kept his arm on her, but by the time they had gone more than a few meters, he was all the carrying her. Finally, he spotted an tree-lined open space and park benches. "Do you think that you can make it to the far corner over there? It's the best I can do."

Sae didn't answer, and Yusuke hoped her silence was agreement. Yusuke heaved her across the street and onto the promised bench. Some of the other pedestrians stopped and stared, but no one said anything or moved to help. Terribly rude, but Yusuke was grateful in the moment. He wasn't sure how he could explain this because he wasn't sure what was happening himself. Sae's eyes were unfocused, and he wasn't sure she even saw him. He sat beside her and took her hand. "Can you hear me? What's wrong? It's me, Yusuke."

"Yusuke?" she whispered. Another shudder seized her. "For a moment I thought I was back in the apartment."

"No, we're quite some distance." His mind finally put the pieces together, and he wanted to hit himself. "Not where you live now. The one you had before." He felt suddenly helpless. There were stories of people who saw horrible things that have happened to them in the past as if they were occurring in the moment. If he had thought of it at all, he had assumed it was a quirk like his own mind or the psychic equivalent of a weak heart. But Sae was not weak. And he had no idea how to help her.

He laced his fingers with hers and hoped that it was the right thing. "You're not there. You're here with me. Safe."

Her breath was shallow, but her eyes were a little more focused. "It's the yakuza. I had hoped it wasn't, but I'm going to have to fight them again."

"You don't know that. Hideki sold to many people. And he well may have been intoxicated when he crashed. No cause for further alarm."

She shook her head. "It was a mental shutdown. Someone has been directing those for their own purposes. Who better to be the mastermind than a yakuza boss?"

"Even if it is them, you're stronger." His grip tightened on her hands. He only knew of the yakuza as the shadowy tattooed figures who evaded the law and killed for profit and twisted honor. But how strong could such twisted, ugly people be? A chill settled over his shoulders. Strong enough to scar Sae in body and mind. But scars weren't death. "You will solve this mystery, and I'll be there to paint the portrait of the greatest prosecutor in Tokyo when you do."

Her laugh sounded like a sob. "You're so sweet, Yusuke. Kind. I don't deserve it."

He cocked his head to one side. "Doesn't everyone deserve kindness? I thought it was considered a virtue. I should be kind, considering that my artistic career is apparently precarious at the moment." He had almost forgotten that in the face of Sae's crisis. Could Sensei's training truly be so inadequate. He who had painted _Sayuri_ unable to transmit his genius to the next generation?

_And when was the last time he taught you anything?_ whispered the traitorous voice. _Once you mastered the basics, he developed his art block and have to leave your training to the teachers at Kosei. You've only been trained by him in name._

Sae took a deep breath. Her voice was shaky. "You're very good. Maybe I can do something to make sure that you get a fair shake when you graduate."

It seemed the sort of thing that he should smile at, so Yusuke did his best to paste on a grin. "And that's kind of you to say. But right now you need to go home and rest. Take some medication." Don't worry-" She flinched, and Yusuke pulled away and& put his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry. What did I say wrong?"

"Nothing. My medication has horrible side effects, that's all. What I need is to think about something else." More deep breaths. "Let me help you. It'll give me a project to work on, something I can think about when this case gets overwhelming. Please?"

He would have to be made of stone to resist that voice. "What would you want me to do?"

"Put together a portfolio, with a good variety of subjects and in every medium you work in. We'll show it to some of my contacts in the art world. They'll be as taken with you as I was, and they'll become your contacts.

"Sensei wouldn't like it," he said, but the words felt perfunctory.

"I don't think he'd like that I was holding your hand, either."

"Point." His mind whirred. Every medium and style he worked in? He had to assume that Sae's contacts would have varied tastes, so he would have to create pieces accordingly. Traitorous voice or not, he was the protégé of the Master of All Japanese Styles, and now he would prove it. "I must get to work and once, but let me see you home safely."

"I'll be all right."

"But I would worry, and I don't think I could paint. Please, let me put my mind at ease."

"You are becoming quite a manipulator. My doing?" She patted his arm. "That's a good thing. You'll have the art world eating out of your hand someday. Mr. Kitagawa, would you do me the honor of escorting me home?"

The train was crowded, and that commuters stared at the scarred, obviously shaken woman and her escort, but Sae seemed lost in another world. Yusuke hoped it wasn't the world of the fire. He wished he were brave enough to take her hand again and ground her, but he knew that that wouldn't do. Instead he let his leg brush against her good one. Maybe that would be enough to tether her to the present. It seemed to work because her lip twitched, and some of the color came back to her face as they made their way toward Yoyogi.

Makoto answered the door. "Sis? You don't look so good."

Sae leaned heavily on Yusuke, but her eyes were hard. Not quite as terrifying as she had been with Natsumi, but a colder and more dangerous woman than the one on the park bench or on her bike. "It's nothing. Simply a trying day. Could you make me some coffee?"

"Is that a good idea?"

"I have work to be doing. I'm expecting documents by courier. I need to make sure that all my files are in order. "

Makoto frowned. "Is it something that I can help with? That way you can go to bed early. And I always wanted to know what you and Dad did all day when I was in school."

Sae's eyes went wide and the little color she had regained vanished. "No! No investigations! It's too dangerous for a student. Now get my coffee and don't worry about things that don't concern you."

Makoto bowed her head and vanished. Sae's breath came in harsh gasps. Yusuke's stomach twisted. That was twice now that Sae had become harsh with seemingly little provocation. Sensei's moods could be mercurial as well, but he never tired of listing Yusuke's many failures that led to his anger. This was something different. He waited until Makoto had gone and took Sae's arm. "Is something wrong?"

"Is that a trick question?"

Oh of course. That was the most foolish possible phrasing. "You seem harsher today than normal. Even before we went to the park. Is something amiss? It doesn't seem like you to threaten people."

"How do you know what I'm like?" She staggered away from him and collapsed onto the couch. "Threats make people act quickly. Now that Natsumi knows he has something to lose, he'll send over his records as quickly as you please without me having to go through the hassle of getting a subpoena."

Yusuke made a noncommittal noise. "And snapping at Makoto?"

"I didn't snap." She looked at him, tired and hopeful. "Did I?"

Yusuke shrugged. "You didn't frighten me like Sensei does sometimes."

Sae buried her face and in her hands. "I was never meant to be anyone's guardian, but now I'm hers. And she inherited all the Niijima desire to crush evil and find things that could kill her."

Yusuke's thoughts snapped together like puzzle pieces. "You're afraid. Of her following in your footsteps. Ending up like you and your father."

She gave a laugh without humor. "Insightful too. I must be rubbing off on you."

"And so you intimidate her so something worse doesn't happen." A horrible thought struck him. Perhaps this was simply the way that the adult world worked. Perhaps everyone used fear to keep others in line. One of those great unspoken things that he was supposed pick up on but never did. "So is that how you'll keep me safe, then?"

She winced. "It's easier to be kind with you. It used to be easier with Makoto, when I was only her sister." She beckoned him closer. "But I want you to promise me something. If I ever make you feel afraid, leave. Cut all ties with me. You have the right to feel safe with the people you're dating."

"But I do feel safe with you. Today was offputting, but I never felt in danger. Let the world throw at me what it may, and I could endure it as long as you were there."

"Oh, Yusuke, it's only a matter of time before you realize that you can do so much better than a half-insane cripple." She took his hand and squeezed it. "I promise that I'll be all right now, and I promise that I'll apologize to Makoto. You need to get home. Madarame will worry, and you have a portfolio to get started on."

So he did. "Until next time." He bent to kiss her hand, and his last side of her before he left the apartment was a pleasant blush replacing the sickly pallor.

Madarame was already home by the time Yusuke arrived at the atelier. "I trust you were gifted with adequate inspiration on your outing. The gallery wants even more pieces."

"It was very profitable, thank you. I have a project due soon, but I'm certain that I'll be able to perform to your standards." Perhaps it was the traitorous spirit within or perhaps it was Sae's influence, but it was growing easier to lie to Madarame. He would do what Sensei required of him, out of gratitude for all he had done, but the first fruits of his artistic spirit would be devoted to the portfolio. "May I go to my room? It's been a long day."

"Of course, my boy."

Yusuke dutifully trooped to his room and closed the door. A portfolio in all the mediums and styles he worked in without Madarame knowing about it. His sketchbook he could keep with him, but the paintings on canvas would require special care. Perhaps Sae would have some ideas. Maybe he could earn some money somehow to rent a suitable storage locker.

But for now, he had to create. Something to embody the duality of man. How one person could be both harsh and kind.


	8. The Beautiful People

The girls who had listened to Sae with wide eyes as she regaled them with stories of being a prosecutor thought that the job was a never-ending cascade of dramatic arrests and even more dramatic trials. She hadn't had the heart to tell them that it was mostly paperwork. She rubbed her temples and tried again to make the financial records say something other than what they did.

Ikeda had been laundering money, that much was obvious. Many many purchases by a New Horizons Exports, Ltd. The headquarters had turned out to be a post office box. No one had heard of the CEO. And most of the purchases were Madarames, with the buyer and seller both using pseudonyms. She had recognized one of the names, that of Madarame's former mistress who was safely in prison and in no condition to be selling a collection that should have been seized in its entirety. But it was her name on the offshore account, selling a painting that had never been exhibited publicly. The account she had sworn up and down that Madarame had had access to.

Sometimes she despised her job.

Akechi poked his head in the door. "May I come in?"

"Of course. There's something I want to discuss with you anyway." There were times she felt guilty about using a student to help her with her cases, but Akechi was good at not only connecting the dots, but warning her when the patterns she saw were probably wishful thinking. "I've been going over the Natsumi records." She handed him the papers. "I would say that this is an unusually clear case of money laundering. We may have our financier of the mental shutdown cabal."

Akechi spent the next few minutes leafing through the records, his frown deepening as he did so. "While I would caution you that there's still no direct link to the incidents, the money laundering indictment would be sound if we had any idea who was making these purchases. And, if I remember prior cases, it seems that Madarame has been, as they say, a very bad boy."

"So you saw it as well. I'm going to have to interview him." She ran a hand through her hair. "Yu-Kitagawa is just going to love this. But the case leads where it leads."

Akechi swallowed. "You could give it up, you know. Occam's Razor would dictate that this is a mundane, amateurish criminal enterprise with no connection to the shutdowns. It's hardly worth throwing Kitagawa into an orphanage or the foster system over Madarame not paying taxes on a few million yen. Sometimes justice must be tempered with mercy."

"And if it is connected to the shutdowns?"

"Then it's even more reason for you to give it up. Suppose there is indeed a conspiracy. They're clever and powerful enough to strike undetectably for nearly three years now." He trembled and his voice was louder than Sae had ever heard it. Do you truly imagine that that prosecutor's badge protects you when it couldn't protect you from the yakuza? How long before you do something to draw their attention and you're the next victim?"

"You said all that before." And she had nearly cracked at the mere mention of the yakuza being involved. "And I still say that, if I give up, then everyone is right that I'm broken and Kaneshiro has won."

He sighed. "I wish that you could prove to yourself that you're still capable lawyer without putting yourself in needless danger."

"I can't, it seems. And these people are murderers, Akechi, but I'm the only prosecutor in Tokyo who seems to care. If not me, then who? The game is rigged, but I'll be damned if I let some money laundering thugs walk away with all the chips."

"And Kitagwa?" The anger crept back into his voice. "The world is not kind to those without blood family. We're fortunate if we can attend high school. Some of the boys I grew up with didn't associate food with grocery stores until the orphanage kicked them out. A father—any father—is better than that place."

Oh. One of the first things she had done when Akechi had presented himself to assist the prosecutor's office as a new Naoto Shirogone was to look him up. Only his mother—deceased-had been listed on the registry sheet. A brilliant boy with all the world against him. Sae had hired him on the spot. But it didn't make those stories of how the world treated bastards and orphans any less true. "How would you handle it, then?"

"Besides forgetting the matter? You don't care about his taxes. You only care about the information you can provide. Stop by his residence for a 'friendly chat' about how much cooperating with your investigation is in his interest. And who knows? Perhaps there's an innocent explanation. As for Kitagawa..." He pushed the papers back to her and stood. "Keep being good to him, as you have been to me. We bastards don't have many friends."

Sae swallowed. "It never mattered to me, you know. I don't know what you're parents were like, but you're a good man."

He looked down. "That's entirely too kind of you. I hope someday that you can put your ghosts to rest. You deserve to be happy."

What did she say to that? "I promised that I'd look into introducing Kitagawa to some people. I should get on that before things go to hell."

"I'll leave you to it, then. Think about what I said. You don't need to break yourself to have value." He bowed and was out the door before she could reply.

She ran her fingers through her hair. There had been a time she would have gloated to bring down the great Madarame, but now she only hoped there was some innocent explanation. Because she wanted to make sure the young man who had roused her from her living death received only good things from knowing her. Instead, she might well send him into a system with no easy way out. And he would hate her for it. Unless she was willing to give up the biggest case of her life.

Nothing was worth she could hope for was for that innocent explanation and some other thread to lead her forward. And in the meantime she could be as kind to Yusuke as she had promised. No matter how much it cost her pride.

She had promised Yusuke she would do all she could to give him proper art world contacts. And there was one man uniquely suited to that. Even years ago, everyone had loved Benjiro. He had leant her his easy smiles when she couldn't keep up the charm that her role required. He knew everyone worth knowing in the art world who wasn't completely beholden to Madarame. And the rat owed her for breaking her heart. She dialed his number. "I need a favor from you. Is this a good time?"

"Sae?" He sounded like she had come back from the dead instead of calling a few weeks after seeing him. "I-I don't know. It depends on the favor."

"Do you remember Yusuke Kitagawa? He's quite talented, and he's putting a portfolio together. I wanted you to take a look at it, maybe put him on the right path."

"Kitagawa? That kid the guy from your office almost punched out? Since when do you care about student artists? It was always more about the cachet for you, wasn't it? Hanging out with the sophisticated people?"

Sae recoiled as if he had reached through the phone and slapped her. "I have always cared a very great deal about art. For its own sake. If you thought otherwise, then it's no surprise we didn't work out. As for why I care about Kitagawa, he shows some promise, and he's kind." She took a deep breath. He wasn't the only one who could wound with words. "And he didn't break up with me when I was in a hospital bed. I think you owe me for that."

Silence. An indistinct woman's voice. Benjiro put the phone down, and Sae heard only the occasional syllable before he picked back up. "You fight dirty, Sae. Cristina wants to come, though. Her gallery specializes in up and comers."

An afternoon with her ex and his new girlfriend. Lovely. "She does know that it'll be years before he's gallery ready, right? He hasn't even gone to art school yet."

"She says it doesn't matter. She wants to meet him. It doesn't make much sense to me, either."

The second time Farenelli had shown unexpected interest in her. Curious. And terribly awkward. But what choice did she have? It was people like Farenelli who'd be buying Yusuke's pieces someday. "Let me call Kitagawa, and we'll set something up."

"And then you and I are even."

"We're even." _And I sincerely hope that I never have to see you again._

She hung up. The hours seemed to drag on. Her confrontation with Madarame was likely inevitable and almost certainly going to be unpleasant at best, but she could give Yusuke this before the end. And drink in his smiles and the warmth of his hand. Cowardly? Certainly. But she was tired of an artificial honor that brought her only pain while the rest the world laughed. She waited until she was certain Yusuke was out of class, smothered the last of her doubts, and texted him. _I spoke with an old friend. He and his girlfriend want to take a look at your artwork. He's an artist, and she's a gallerist._

_Really?_ A pause. _You always give so much more than I expected._

Oh, that boy. If she did nothing else for him before the end, she would make kindnesses normal and expected for him. _How does_ _tomorrow at six o'clock sound. Makoto has cram school, so we'll have the apartment to ourselves._

_More than suitable. Tell your friend how grateful I am._

By the time five thirty the next day rolled around, Sae was a bundle of nerves who wished that she had two good legs so she could pace properly. Everything was going to be fine. Yusuke was still developing as an artist, but he had talent. Benjiro would see that. She was an adult, and he would hardly want to make a scene in front of his girlfriend.

The doorbell buzzed. "It's me," Yusuke said. "May I come in?"

Sae hobbled to the door and unlocked it. Yusuke stood with a portfolio case under one arm. His uniform looked as if he had hand-smoothed every wrinkle, and he had brushed his hair back from his eyes. Sae licked her lips. So very handsome, and he didn't seem to know it. If he ever found a social strategy that worked for him, he would have the art world in the palm of his hand. "Is my appearance suitable? Thank you so much for this. I was awake until two in the morning putting the last minute touches on this. I do hope your friend enjoys still lifes."

"Easy," Sae said. "You'll be brilliant. You are brilliant."

His smile warmed her and made her shiver all at once. He took her hand. "Thank you. Is praise one of the benefits of courtship, or is it simply your kindness?"

"It's something people give to other people because it's their right as human beings."

Spots of color appeared on his cheeks and he looked down. "I apologize. This is all new to me. I was never one to attract interest from girls or the other boys, and I didn't particularly want to. And then I saw you in that leather jacket, and it's as if I'm being introduced to an entirely new spectrum of color. I want to do things. Say things. And I have no idea what's appropriate and what's not."

"That depends entirely on what you want to do."

"Touch you," he whispered. He raised his head, and his gray eyes were dark as stormclouds "Run my fingers through your hair."

His words tugged at her like a marionette's leading strings. It had been so long since anyone had done more than hold her hand, had looked at her with desire. She was a coward, a thief, and a cheat. And it didn't matter. "Touch me, then."

He disentangled his hand from hers, and moved slowly, oh so slowly up her good side, sparking long dormant fires in his wake. He made absent-seeming patterns on the side of her neck. His eyes grew even darker, but he didn't speak. He cupped her cheek, and ran his thumb over her. Slow, analytical, as if he were sculpting her with his touch. Their breathing was ragged. Sae had lost the power of speech, and even coherent thought was becoming difficult. There was only Yusuke touching her. Making her feel human again. Bringing her back to life.

He plunged his hands into her hair. Sae threw back her head, and gasped. No, it didn't matter what she would have to do. She was going to keep him and throw the whole world, not just his fellow artists, at his feet. "Yusuke," she said with something that sounded uncomfortably like a whimper, "please."

And…he stopped. Sae's legs felt suddenly wobbly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean...you looked distressed, and I wasn't sure what to do."

Sae blinked once, twice. The world felt fuzzy even as her hormones begged for him to keep going. She forced her breathing to calm and her heartbeat to slow. She wasn't her hormones, no matter how much she wanted to drag him to the couch and show him just how distressed she could be. "You were fine. Better than fine. _"_ The heat in her spiked one last time. People look funny when they get...excited."

"I'll try to remember that. "He shivered. "You were so warm. And soft. I was afraid I would forget myself." He smoothed her hair. "Is this what it's like for ordinary people? Just wanting to touch each other all the time? Sometimes I think I'm going mad. I thought I caught a whiff of your perfume the other day, and it's as if my intestines were putty."

She laughed despite herself. "That, sweetheart, is attraction. And yes, it's normal."

He tilted his head to one side. "Sweetheart? Sensei calls me 'my boy' but I've never had a truly affectionate nickname before. I rather like it. I'll have to think of one for you as well." He shivered again. "But I am rather cold, or perhaps it's just more of this new world."

She laughed again. "I have an extra blanket in my closet if you like. I need to put myself back together anyway."

He trooped in the direction of her bedroom, and Sae spent the next few minutes putting her hair back in place and making sure her makeup was still in one piece. She felt like a schoolgirl herself, being undone by a few touches. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing. It was nice to that her emotions run wild after so long feeling nothing. Her hands prickled. Soon she would have to return the favor and play with those too-long locks of his.

There was a crash from the direction of her bedroom. "Oh, dear," Yusuke said.

He didn't sound hurt. Still, Sae hurried to her bedroom as fast as her cane would take her. She found Yusuke standing in front of her closet, surrounded by the detritus of the Champion of Justice. Right in the middle of it was a painting of her. Nude, except for some artfully placed bed sheets. Benjiro had painted it in a fit of lust-addled artistic traditionalism. The woman in that painting was smiling and why shouldn't she? She knew she was the kind of model artists dreamed of and she had the world in her hands. She was beautiful. Perfect. And Yusuke was staring at her.

Her good mood deflated. Yusuke was dumbstruck. And she…she was so far from the woman in the painting. Yusuke was young and healthy. In time, he would emerge from his shell as a butterfly emerged from its cocoon. He would want a beautiful woman like the one in the painting, and he would find her. It was only inexperience and awkwardness that tethered him to her.

"This is you," he said at last.

"Yes." Idiot. Moron. What had she been thinking?

"It's a very good piece, but it lacks something. It's the oddest thing. Every time I see a recording or a picture of you, the things that make you you are missing."

"I—what?" Her brain struggled uselessly to catch up with her ears. "You're looking at a nude of me, and you're thinking about the technique?"

"Well, technique implies a focus on the mechanics. My concern is somewhat—I'm sorry, that isn't what you were concerned about it all, was it?"

Sae shook her head. As many times as Yusuke had proven that he had his own way of looking at the world, it was still a shock when it applied to her. "She's beautiful. I was beautiful. I would think an artist would like that better."

"You were more aesthetically pleasing, I suppose. How should I know if you were beautiful? Beauty in living things is internal qualities manifesting in the external. I just told you that the artist has given me no sense of the internal. I suppose you must have been beautiful if you were anything like you are now."

Her vision wavered. This sweet, wonderful, amazing boy. Sae seized his hand and turned his palm inward. She kissed each fingertip in turn, trying to say with actions what her voice couldn't. They were both shivering. She wished she could kiss him properly or even more. The woman in the painting would have tried, but then she wouldn't have given Yusuke a second glance. But Sae as she was now could content herself with such courtly gestures. Yusuke tangled his hand in her hair again and pulled her close, and for a little while, Benjiro, Madarame, and the conspirators were as distant as a fever dream.

"That's another thing that's permissible?" Yusuke murmured when Sae finally stopped. "I enjoyed kissing your hand, but the other way around is quite nice as well."

Sae chuckled. "You can kiss my hand any time you like." She looked up at him. "This is really enough for you? I'm enough for you?"

"Of course you are. I feel like a starving man who's finally been let into the banquet hall." His gaze wandered to the painting. "I only wish I could give you what the person who painted you like that did. They were your lover?"

Sae frowned. She was going to have a hard enough time keeping her temper when Benjiro showed up as it was. "He dumped me in the hospital as I was recovering. Nice as those butterflies in your stomach are, they're fleeting. You're a good person, and I'd rather have that than erotic paintings."

"Thank you." He gifted her with a half-smile. "Not that I would object to creating an erotic painting. It's a classic subject, and I find myself with no lack of inspiration."

Heat spread across her face and warmed her belly. In another time and another life, she would have pounced on him, but she settled for lacing her fingers with his. "Let's get this cleaned up. Benjiro will be here soon, and there's no need to make things more awkward than they already will be."

"Benjiro? I know that name. He was there at the party at Kosei." He started. "You invited your former lover to look at my art? The one who painted this? Who abandoned you? What on Earth could possess you to do such a thing?"

Sae shrugged. "I promised you good contacts, and I honor my promises. I may dislike him now, but he and his new girlfriend can help you."

"I'll endeavor not to punch him in the nose on your behalf then. Lead on." Another small smile. "I find myself suddenly less nervous about displaying my art. It can't possibly be more emotionally fraught than everything else that's happened today."

They cleaned up as best they could, and by the time Benjiro and Farenelli arrived, Sae had calmed her nerves. It was as Yusuke had said. Nothing Benjiro could say or do today could match her own insecurities. And she had tangible proof that at least one person in the world wanted her. The doorbell rang, Sae pasted on her best smile, and off they went.

Benjiro bowed stiffly and took in her apartment. "Sae. Lovely place you have here. With a very attentive security guard. I never thought he was going to let us in. But I suppose you need it."

Farenelli was at his elbow. "Don't be like that. None of us came here to talk about security guards. She bowed to Sae and Yusuke. "It's a pleasure to meet you both under better circumstances. I've heard much about your eye for talent, Ms. Niijima and about the famed Madarame. Mr. Kitagawa must be quite something."

"Madarame?" Benjiro's eyes widened. "Is this your way of getting back at him, then? Or trying to fix things? I've never seen one of his students amount to anything."

"Well, there's a first time for everything, isn't there?" Her gaze locked with Farenelli's. If anyone in the room would understand, it would be the woman who has helped her when they had every reason to be rivals. "This is my kindness. I am still capable of it."

Yusuke cleared his throat. "I've tried to choose pieces that I feel are representative of my style, though they are of necessity somewhat scaled-down. Most of them were painted quite recently, and, well, may we begin? It's been a rather eventful day."

Benjiro took the portfolio case from him. He and Farenelli moved to the table while Sae guided Yusuke to the couch. She watched them leafing through the pieces with narrowed eyes and whispering to each other in low voices. Sae wished she could hear them. She wished, too, that she could take Yusuke's hand or rub his back to soothe him. He rocked back and forth slightly as they continued looking. Poor boy. She sweated when the director called her into his office. It must be ten times worse for him.

Farenelli looked up first. Her smile was kind. "Your technique is excellent for someone of your age, and some of the pieces show the beginnings of a keen eye." _But_ hung in the air, and Sae's shoulders slumped.

Yusuke didn't notice. He beamed. "Really? Do you think it would be worth it to show it to your contacts, then?"

Benjiro and Farenelli exchanged glances. The kind you gave when you didn't want to crush someone. "Some of them are good," Benjiro said. "But most of them, well, they're just not very original. It's like all your creative energy is going somewhere else."

Yusuke flinched and looked at her, miserable. "That's what you said about me at Kosei. I'm doomed. A defective artist."

"You have plenty of time to find your voice."

"You can teach technique. Give me six months, and I can make your sister able to excel in any art class at Kosei. It's the artist's inner fire that separates _Sayuri_ from a common portrait. And my only true inspiration has been-" She could almost see the lightbulb above his head come on. "Are you well enough to sit for me?"

"Yes, but now?"

Yusuke turned to Benjiro and Farenelli. "Might I beg your indulgence for ten more minutes? There's one last portrait I must create. "

Benjiro stared. "Sae? Kid, if you are doing this three years ago, I'd have understood, but I'd think you would want a different model."

"No. Ms. Niijima is quite creatively rich as it is. If you can't see that, then perhaps it is your eye that's defective."

"This I have to see," Farenelli muttered. She reached into her bag and produced paper and colored pencils. "I've taken up a little drawing myself to pass the time. I hope these will do."

"They will." Yusuke's voice changed as he stood and joined the other two at the table. Older, more authoritative. His movements flowed easily from one to the next. "Ms. Niijima, if you would hold that pose?"

She had modeled more often than she cared to count, but this was surreal. Yusuke's eyes seemed to shine with their own light as his hand flew across the page. He never spoke, and only the briefest glances in her direction told her that whatever he was drawing wasn't coming completely from his own head. She watched Benjiro squirm out of the corner of her eye. Let him. She hoped that this was another _Sayuri_ or _Mona Lisa_. Show them all that she could never be dismissed again. Neither of them could.

"Sis, I—what's all this?"

The spell broke as they all turned towards the doorway and Makoto. Lines had etched themselves between her brows, and she held a card made of red construction paper. "Am I interrupting something?"

Yusuke shuddered and wiped the sweat from his brow. "No, no. I was just finishing up."He made a few more strokes. "That should do. You can look now."

Benjiro and Farenelli crept closer and Sae limped to the other side. She bit back a gasp. The painting was of her, there was no question, but she was beautiful. Not as she had been in that painting. The scars were there, unsparing, and her thoughtful expression held none of the old playful confidence. But there was so much light. Eyes that shone like fire so that the deformity didn't matter. Tears stung her eyes. This was how he saw her. Not as some diminished husk but as the equal of Helen of Troy or Xi Shi. _Oh, sweetheart._

Benjiro looked from the drawing to her and back again. "Astonishing. If I had done that at your age, they would have hailed me as the next Madarame. If you can keep creating work of this quality, I know people who would have Tokyo eating out of your hand within six months."

"Indeed," said Farenelli. "And if Tokyo wouldn't have you, Milan would."

"Europe?" Yusuke looked a little dazed. Sae couldn't blame him. Tokyo was large, but it might as well have been a backwater as far as the art world was concerned. Farenelli was dangling diamonds in front of Yusuke, and he deserved them. "I can't—are you sure?"

"Nothing is ever certain, Mr. Kitagawa. But keep producing work like that and keep your nose clean and well, who knows?" She looked from from him to Sae and smiled. "And thank you for soothing my conscience about where my heart led me."

Sae started. Was it so obvious? But Farenelli was smiling and looked as far from horrified as it was possible to be. She bowed again. "I think you again for this introduction." After the exchange of a few more pleasantries, she and Benjiro were gone.

"Was it really that good?" Yusuke whispered. "Milan?"

"It was that good. I told you that you could be great."

"Thank you for that. And for being my muse."

Sae wished she could hug him.

Makoto, who had stood to the side during all the commotion, approached the open sketchbook. "Wow, even I can tell that this is good. Congratulations, Yusuke." Then, more softly, "I knew that you would be good for Sis."

Sae flushed. Maybe it was better to stop that train of thought before Makoto started connecting dots that she didn't want connected. "What's that in your hand?" she asked.

Makoto paled slightly. "This was left on the bulletin board at school. Someone else knows about Kamoshida."

"Do they?" Giving her business card away had come to nothing, as she had expected. People would do almost anything keep the little power they had, even tolerate the unspeakable. But there was always the chance of someone rising from below to smash the powerful and give them what they truly deserved. She took the card. It had been stitched together like an old-fashioned ransom note out of every writing system she knew and a crude drawing of Kamoshida as a king had been included for good measure. "Sir Suguru Kamoshida, the utter bastard of lust..."

The writer would win no points for eloquence, but Sae got the gist of it. Someone knew about the rapes and abuses, and they were going to make Kamoshida confess at the school board meeting. "This was on the bulletin board, you said?"

"Kobyakawa was furious."

She could imagine. The public would eat up this kind of scandal. As long as Makoto was shielded from the blowback, let it come. Sae would be in the front row with a sharpened knife. "I wonder what this 'change of heart' business is? Blackmail? I wish they had come to me. This is technically illegal, and useless for prosecution." And she would dearly like to put such a monster behind bars. The world would even thank her for it. She would prove she was still a prosecutor to be reckoned with and without risking either her life or destroying Yusuke's. "I wish they had come to me."

"But it inspired one of the volleyball players to come forward. She came to me after class." Makoto's eyes were bright and she looked so much like their father in that moment that a lump formed in Sae's throat. "She told me everything, how he rapes the girls and beats the boys. She's willing to go on the record!"

"That's wonderful." Sae's mind went into prosecutor mode. This would have to be handled just so: a coup de theatre worthy of her quarry. She would break him and garner media attention in one fell swoop, ensure that the principal couldn't buy his way out of this. Let them all discover what it was like to lose everything. "The school board meeting is the day after tomorrow, isn't it? We'll confront him there."

"I'd like to be there as well," Yusuke said. "For moral support."

"Done." Sae closed her eyes. She couldn't be the woman of the painting. Kaneshiro had burned her to ash along with her father. But out of those ashes could arise someone who could inspire devotion from a great artist and learn that she was capable of that devotion in turn. Who could bring down a celebrity in spite of the rigged system. Who could seize some of those glittering diamonds for herself. "I think it's time that you saw what a prosecutor is capable of."


	9. Phantom Thieves

Yusuke had never been to a school board meeting before, but he hadn't expected one to be so loud. Students, teachers, and parents had stuffed themselves into the auditorium and they were all talking of the mysterious calling card. Sae had gotten them seats on the front row, and had spent the last five minutes polishing her prosecutor's badge. Her star witness sat on the other side of her. She had dark hair with bangs that almost covered her eyes. She didn't look like an exposer of corruption, but Yusuke was learning that heroes never looked like he thought they should.

Sae leaned in close to her, not quite touching. "Everything will be all right," she said softly. "We'll wait until they open the floor for questions, and then we'll strike. Let me do most of the talking. I promise you that everyone will know what that man has done, and no one will ever hurt you again."

"Yes ma'am," the girl said even more softly. "Principal Kobyakawa will probably have me expelled for shaming the school, but if someone was brave enough to say all those things, then I couldn't stay quiet."

"Principal Kobyakawa will be lucky if I don't end up indicting him for hiding this. Nothing, and I mean nothing, justifies abetting the rape of a student. No harm will come to you. I swear it."

Yusuke caught Makoto's gaze. She was beaming. Yusuke thought he understood. The Champion of Justice had never seemed real to him, but confidence and moral authority shone from Sae's face. He was going to see justice done.

Sae turned to him. "You take deep breaths as well. I appreciate you being here, but don't overtax yourself."

Yusuke nodded. "It's merely the excitement and all the stimulation. All these people who know that something momentous is about to happen." A fine subject for a piece, and a fine way to calm his nerves. "Would it be rude to do some sketching?"

Sae shrugged, and Yusuke pulled some charcoal and paper from his bag. The teachers, tired but frightened as if they knew what sins were about to be revealed, the students eager for some new scandal, others hanging back with a mixture of hope and disbelief on their faces. And Sae, who would be their deliverer in only a few moments. The whole panorama of humanity, fodder for him to craft into true art. Mundane talk of minutes and business fell away as the needs of craftsmanship mastered his traitorous senses.

"If there's no other business..." the fat principal said.

"That's our cue." Sae grabbed her cane and stood. "I have a matter to bring before-"

Whatever she was going to say was cut off by the sound of the door opening. The man standing there would have been handsome, once, with his athletic build and dark eyes. But his pallor was like that of a corpse and there was no life in his eyes. He moved like a walking corpse, too, slow and halting. Chatter broke out like wildfire, and Yusuke didn't even have to ask him he was. This was the man they had come to bring to justice. Kamoshida.

He mounted the stage, and those assembled shied away from him as if he carried some dread disease. Maybe he did. Yusuke had seen the desperately ill before and remembered flashes of his mother as a pale, gaunt woman, but he had never felt this aura of wrongness, as if Kamoshida had lost the part of him that made him human.

He lumbered toward the microphone. "I have come here to acknowledge my crimes. I have taken liberties with the female students. I have raped them. One girl tried to kill herself because of my actions." He shuddered and fell to his knees. "I humbly ask that the police be called and that I receive the fullest punishment of the law."

Yusuke dropped his pencil. Lively chatter became pandemonium. Beside him, Sae drained of color as if the malady that had affected Kamoshida had spread to her as well. "I—what? How? _How?_ " She looked at the ground, muttering as Madarame sometimes did. "I had everything prepared. I could have had it all."

Yusuke dared to put a hand on her back since no one was paying attention to them anyway. "It's all right," he whispered with a confidence that he didn't feel. How indeed? The crime was vile, but the psychology books told him that vile men went on being vile until they were stopped. What could change the nature of a man? And on such short notice?

The volleyball player looked at Sae with wide eyes. "Ms. Niijima, do I still need to say anything?"

Sae let out a laugh that made Yusuke's stomach clench. "What would be the point? Everyone knows now." She gestured frantically with her cane. "The police will be here soon. I should meet them. Be good for something. "

Yusuke sank into his seat. Well, this was interesting, and not in a way that he was sure he liked. Sae was clearly distraught, even though the villain had been brought to justice. He couldn't blame her for being disturbed. Kamoshida confessing as if some outside force was driving him to do it. Ikeda almost running her down in that mysterious accident. It was as if the entire world was going mad.

Makoto and the volleyball player were still pale and blinking. "What just happened?" Makoto asked.

He could help with that, at least. "Kamoshida confessed to sexual assault, and your sister is organizing his arrest."

"No, I mean why? I knew the rumors. Everyone knew the rumors, and Kobyakawa and the parents protected him for years. So why just confess? I'd say it was because Sis was going to arrest him, but it didn't sound like he was doing it just to save his own hide."

No, it didn't. A flash of red caught Yusuke's attention. Another copy of the calling card, lying discarded on the floor. Makoto picked it up. "'We have decided to steal away those desires and make you confess your sins,'" she read. "That's just talk. Isn't it?"

"It's talk that made me think that I could tell people what happened," the volleyball player said. "But they really did it. They made Kamoshida confess."

"So it would seem." A part of Yusuke knew that he should be overjoyed that justice had been done, but disquiet settled in his stomach. The world was confusing enough as it was. He didn't need mysterious figures who could make someone feel guilty. But then, refusing to see the world as it was was antithetical to beauty. And his head was beginning to hurt.

He tried to keep his mind blank until Sae came to collect them. She looked tired, and her eyes were dull. "Let's go, kids. There's nothing for us here."

"Ms. Niijima, what happens now? Will I go to a police station or-"

Sae laughed that terrible laugh once more. "You should go home and keep your head down. I'm sure an officer will interview you eventually. A child could handle the case at this point." Her eyes hardened. "Go and try to forget all that he did to you."

The girl seemed almost too happy to comply, leaving the three of them alone amidst the chaos. "I wish I could still drink," Sae muttered. She looked from Makoto to Yusuke and sighed. "I was going to take you kids somewhere nice and throw a party, but I've lost my taste for it. Will you take the best coffee and curry in Tokyo?"

Yusuke would have agreed to climb Mount Fuji if it made life returned to Sae's eyes. "You know that I never turn down food."

The night was chilly for May, or perhaps the evening had disturbed him more than he'd realized. The lights seemed more garish as well. And Sae still looked ill. More than ill. Her shoulders hunched, and she leaned heavily on Makoto. They passed under a street lamp, and her eyes seemed golden in the glow. He shivered.

"What is it?" Her voice didn't sound right either, as if there was some kind of echo.

"Your eyes. They looked yellow for a moment. Are you quite well?"

"My eyes?" Her lips parted. "No, they can't be. My eyes are brown. Red in the right light. Definitely not yellow. You must be overtired."

"No, I'm well-rested. I know it was merely the light." He stopped. Light or not, she looked as ill as Kamoshida. "What's wrong? You haven't looked as you should since Kamoshida confessed. He frowned. If he didn't know better, he would say that she was ill because he had confessed. "The monster will never hurt anyone again. Isn't that a good thing?"

"But I didn't catch him."

"Does it really matter so much?" Makoto asked. "As long as justice was done?"

Sae shivered again. The headlights of a passing car bathed her in the golden light. "Justice is only a word. What the office cares about is clearance rates and who gets the credit. I could have proven once and for all that I'm still a fantastic prosecutor and made sure you never wanted for anything. But these blackmailers get the glory and I'm still the crippled lawyer."

Yusuke bit his lip. Did the entire world revolve around reputation and base commerce? Art, the law. It should not be so, and yet forces far greater than any of them had decreed that corruption would carry the day. And so Sae suffered. But just this once, to hell with propriety. He threw his arms around her, heedless of who might be watching. "Shh. There will be other cases. The world will see your glory."

Makoto's lips formed an 'o' but she embraced Sae from the other side. "Don't worry about me. I'll be in university next year, and after that I'll be the one making the money. I promise."

Yusuke was dimly aware of people staring at them, but it seemed to hardly matter as they held an unresisting Sae. When she finally pulled away, her color was normal. "Don't fuss over me like this," she said but without malice. "You'll cause a scene, and then where will we be?"

"Oh. I wouldn't worry about that," Sensei said as he turned the corner in front of them. "People hardly notice anything these days."

Sensei wore his usual polite smile, but his eyes glittered as they did when a show had gone particularly well. Yusuke froze, and the chill deepened until it cut into his bones. Beside him, the ashen color was returning to Sae's face. She had warned him to keep their romance a secret, most of all from Sensei. Yusuke wasn't permitted the indulgences that his master enjoyed. But it was only a hug that had been desperately needed. Perhaps they hadn't been discovered. Perhaps it wouldn't matter if they were.

"No need to stand there gaping. I heard of some kind of commotion at Shujin, and was nearly on my way to collect Yusuke. Come along, my boy. Preparations for the exhibit will soon begin in earnest, and there's work to be done."

The exhibit. He had allowed himself to forget about that in the excitement of car wrecks and meeting gallerists. But those, like all magic hours, must be carefully stored away so he could deal with reality. He still had responsibilities to Sensei, even as he yearned for independence. "Of course." He bowed to Sae and Makoto. "I'm afraid that I'll have to decline the coffee and curry. I'll see you soon I'm certain."

Makoto frowned. "Are you sure? Maybe we could all go tog-"

Sensei laughed even as his eyes hardened. "Have some care for an old man. You'll have him back soon enough. It was a pleasure meeting you. And always a delight to see Ms. Niijima being so delightfully human. I used to think that you were just some avenging angel, but get down in the dirt with the rest of us. How enlightening."

Sae gritted her teeth. "Yes, well, I have a professional matter to talk to you about at your earliest convenience." She smiled at Yusuke, though there was something wrong with it. "Nothing serious. Just some background information."

"I'm always delighted to cooperate with the SIU. Now if you'll excuse us..." He took Yusuke by the arm and steered him in the opposite direction.

They walked together in silence for some time and Yusuke's heart rate returned to normal. Really, that attack of nerves had been uncalled for. He had seen firsthand what abuse looked like, and Sae was as far from Kamoshida as _Sayuri_ was from finger painting. Even if Sensei did discover them, he was an intelligent man who would see the difference. Sae was over-frightened.

"She doesn't care about you, you know," Sensei said.

Yusuke's head snapped up. "What?"

"Ms. Niijima. Even before her injuries, she latched on to any artist she could find. And her tastes were always hedonistic. Never a woman to go to bed alone, if you take my meaning. Now that she's crippled, well I suppose that even a high school student is tempting. She'll drain you dry and discard you once she's gotten all that she can."

White hot rage coursed through Yusuke. The traitorous spirit rose up within him and he forget his fear and his debts. How dare he? How dare he calumniate Sae? "No. She's been kinder to me then anyone. I know you're angry about your mistress, but that's hardly cause for this. Nothing inappropriate has happened. Ms. Niijima is a good person. The best I've ever met."

"Better than the man who took you in?" He chuckled. "Oh, I see! You're in love. She's got you wrapped around her finger."

His rage vanished, replaced by shock and confusion. He had only known love as something from a book, a subject for art. He wanted Sae more than he cared to think about, but did he love her? Was it teaching him how to interact with the world? Holding her when her memories threatened to overwhelm her? Was it something quieter than he had ever dreamed?

"Oh my poor boy." Sensei's hand clamped on his shoulder as they walked into the darkness. "You will see the truth in time."


	10. Devil's Bargain

Sae had made her career taking on some of the most dangerous men in Tokyo. She would rather face the yakuza again then enter the shack before her. She had looked over the files again and again, trying to find some way that a man she despised hadn't engaged in tax evasion and served as an accessory to money laundering. But the facts remained stubbornly present. And he was her only lead regarding the mental shutdowns.

Akechi's voice whispered in her ear. _And so Yusuke enters the system. I wonder if he'll be lucky enough to have another foster father, or if he'll be sent to_ _an orphanage? I wonder if he'll be allowed to finish his schooling? I wonder if he'll ever speak to you again?_

Sae balled her hands into fists. What was she supposed to do? Wait until another car almost ran her over? The law was what it was no matter who suffered. No matter how much she...loved Yusuke. A molten lump burned in her throat. Oh God. He was the first boy to show her any kindness or to make her feel desirable, and she was doing this to him. Because she had to close some big case to prove to her director and everyone else that the world wouldn't be better off if she had died with her father. Because children had successfully blackmailed Kamoshida rather than let the adults handle it.

But she would make sure Yusuke didn't suffer. She had connections in Family Court. She would strong-arm someone to serve as a guardian. Pay for his tuition anonymously if need be. He might still despise her, but she could control who lost the most in this sick game.

Her phone buzzed. Makoto. _Are we still on for dinner? Principal Kobyakwa wants me to look into a student. He works as a waiter part time at a restaurant in Kanda._

Sae's lips thinned. Kobyakawa was another investigation derailed by these mysterious Phantom Thieves. _Why is he having you investigate a student? That's not your job._

_I'm responsible for the other students. And there's something odd about this one._

_Odd how?_ A terrible thought struck her. Makoto was still a teenage girl for all her pretensions to maturity. And Sae had enjoyed herself thoroughly and inventively before her disability. _Do we need to have a talk about boys? Or girls?_

_NO!_

Definitely time for a talk. A shame that she couldn't drink anymore. _Yes, we're on for dinner. Sounds like we need to have a chat._

If only her own troubles were so easily mended. It had been nice to be happy again for a little while. But the dream was over and the house would have its due. She turned off her phone, squared her shoulders, and rang the doorbell.

Madarame wore the same haori jacket. Did the man own nothing else? He smiled when he saw her, all teeth and glittering eyes. "Ms. Niijima? Yusuke has art club, but he should be back soon."

"I'm here to see you." She flashed her badge. "Official business. I'd prefer to do this without a warrant."

His eyebrows went up at that. "As would I. Come in." He stepped back to allow her entrance.

The interior of the atelier was no better than the exterior. Shabby furniture, upholstery patched three times over. Bare floors. Yusuke lived in this? While Madarame was earning millions from his paintings and enjoying meals at three star restaurants and five-star hotels at the hands of his mistresses? To hell with her guilt. She'd see Yusuke in middle-class comfort at the very least. "I see you're committed to the starving artist act. At least through the week."

"Astute. Too astute." He led her into a cramped room that was little more than a desk and two chairs and shut the door. "But you didn't come all this way to berate me for how I market myself."

"Indeed." She could do this. She had made her name as Champion of Justice by making sense of paperwork and using it to break men stronger than him. She snapped open her briefcase and took out his tax return and the bill of sale. "Lying on your tax returns is a felony, Mr. Madarame. And at your age I daresay that the punishment amounts to a life sentence ".

"Don't you have a gangster to arrest? Or was depriving me of my mistress not enough?" He crossed his arms defensively but compared to the rage he had shown when she had arrested said mistress, Madarame was positively sedate.

Sae's hair stood on end. Something was wrong here. "Believe it or not, but until I walked into this house, I wanted desperately to believe that you had some innocent explanation for this. But after seeing the squalor that you subject Yusuke to..." She leaned forward in the chair. "It takes a long time to prepare these cases for trial. And I will see that you spend every second of it behind bars unless you tell me who you sold that painting to."

"Ah. So you're trying to flip me. That is the proper legal jargon, yes?" He steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair like a ruler reclining on his throne. "Let me save you some time. I have underreported my income for decades. I sold that painting to a gentleman with a missing finger joint who I believe you'd know by reputation." He counted on his fingers. "Oh, and I also falsely reported the original _Sayuri_ stolen while I sold several copies clandestinely, claiming each was the original. I believe that's several more felonies."

Sae's eyes widened, and her breath came out as a choked gasp. Several more felonies was a vast understatement. Even if the judge was inclined to be lenient, Madarame had just assured himself a life sentence and the complete destruction of his reputation. "What?"

"I want you to know the prize you could have had. Oh I have been waiting years for this." He smiled again, a predators smile You see, Ms. Niijima, everything I just told you is quite useless to you."

"Why's that?"

"Because if you so much as cite me for jaywalking, I will have you arrested for raping Yusuke. Only a misdemeanor when a woman does it, but I imagine the allegations would torpedo your career all the same."

Sae's vision wavered, and a wave of nausea made her double over. No. No this couldn't be happening. She and Yusuke had been so careful for the last month. It had been stupid to let him comfort her in public, but it was only a hug. She had been maddened with rage and disappointment, almost the demon of her dreams, but Yusuke had brought her back. "We never even kissed."

"Hm. I would have supposed that you would have taking your fill of the boy. It's what I would have done in your position. But it hardly matters. The juvenile obscenity laws are so vague. And with the Kamoshida nonsense, I imagine the courts will be sensitive about that."

"You son of a bitch!"

He tsked. "Language, Niijima. You know, I rather enjoy vengeance. I spent years fantasizing about what I would do to repay the indignities you visited on me." He twirled a pen between his fingers. "With one phone call, I could have the Champion of Justice disbarred and sent to prison. The irony."

"Then do it." He had her, but she could choose how she went down, and it wouldn't be begging. Her vision grew hazier still. The study didn't look right. There was gold everywhere. Paintings of young men and women with stupid expressions on their faces hung on the walls. One of them was Yusuke. An art gallery imagined by someone who had never seen the real thing. "What?"

Madarame changed before her eyes. Clad in a golden kimono and wearing garish make up. The same yellow eyes as her dream demon. "Stop gaping like a fish. I have you over a barrel fair and square." His voice reverberated faintly. "I don't want you in prison. No, I want you where I can look at you and savor my triumph. So these are my terms. You will forget any notion of prosecuting me for any crime now or in the future. You will give Yusuke a very convincing performance about how you want nothing more to do with him. Then you will stay the hell away from him. In return, I will give you the paperwork you want. Or I call the police."

Pain tore through Sae. Not the burn of her scars and mangled leg, but a molten heat that spread out from her core until she knew nothing else. She had lost, completely and utterly. Yusuke was in this demon's thrall. Because she was lonely and careless.

"Because the game is rigged," said a different voice. "And the only way to win is to cheat and not be a sentimental fool like you."

The room shifted again. Sae found herself once more in the casino of her nightmares, sitting across from her doppelgänger at the blackjack table. She rubbed her eyes. Nothing changed. And she couldn't explain this one away with the painkillers. "So I finally cracked. Seems appropriate."

"Oh, shut up. You haven't cracked. And there are no such things as demons."

"Yellow-eyed thing taunting me and telling me that I don't care about my own sister? What else should I call you?"

"Call me by my proper name. I am you. All the things you think, but are too afraid to say. Your shadow self." She smiled, and it was somehow more terrible than the false Madarame's. "If I must have a name, call me...Leviathan."

The sea monster who consumed everything it touched. Demon of envy who took, not because it wanted, but so others would be denied. "So you are a demon. If you want to swallow Madarame whole or turn into that other thing and skewer him, I won't say no."

"I can't. My actions are limited to this world. But I can help you remember who you are and what it takes to win. Pay him back and steal Yusuke away from him."

Yes, that was what she wanted. More than she had wanted to be the Champion of Justice. More even than she wanted to forget what had been done to her. She wanted Madarame to be the one about to lose everything. Wanted him squirming and helpless and begging her not to unleash the power upon him. "Tell me how."

"Bide your time. Play his game for now, but remember that this is only a side bet. The mental shutdowns are the biggest game we've everplayed. Win it and everything that you want is yours."

She was right. Sae had been beloved when she had fought yakuza but the woman who solved the case that had so many people in a panic would be a legend, a god among prosecutors. No one would believe even the great Madarame if he accused her of impropriety. Wealth would be hers for the taking. She might even get a Cabinet post and nevermind her disfigurement. She could do whatever Yusuke wanted her to do to him and do it openly. All she had to do was win.

"You begin to understand," said Leviathan. "As long as you win, nothing else will matter. The game is already rigged in the prosecution's favor. You merely have to use those tools creatively."

"You mean unethically." Prosecutors didn't win ninety-nine cases out of a hundred merely by being selective in what indictments they brought. It was never spoken of openly, but the police knew how to get a suspect to confess without leaving marks. And everyone had a skeleton in their closet that could be used to force cooperation. Her father had taught her to hate such methods. Better that ten guilty men go free than one be convicted. "Dad..."

Leviathan's eyes narrowed. "Dad is dead. Have you forgotten what your search for justice wrought? You need a reminder."

Then Sae saw him. Sitting at the next table was her father, or what was left of him. The charred remains she had stared at for hours as the crews worked to dig her out. He—it-turned the remains of his head toward her. "You did this. Your idealism killed me. I never would have been on the case if you hadn't asked."

"Dad," she repeated. "I never meant...I just wanted to do what you taught me."

"And you lost it all. You're going to lose Yusuke and Makoto unless you discard the stupid ethics I taught you. Don't have them end up losing like me."

Sae convulsed. Her father and Leviathan were right. She kept telling Makoto that justice was only a word, but she had clung to her honor even as the corpses piled up. The only virtue was victory and doing whatever she had to for comfort. "Show me. Show me how to win."

"Gladly," Leviathan said. The world shimmered around her and Sae found herself in Madarame's very ordinary study. A cold hardness lodged itself in her chest. Her grief and pain were muted. She saw only what must be done.

"What the devil are you staring at?" Madarame asked. "Do we have a deal or not?"

"We have a deal." Her voice sounded colder. "Make sure you give me that paperwork before I decide that I don't have anything to lose."

"Oh, I will. I want you to spend every minute of the rest of your life knowing that you owe me for your success."

_I'm going to enjoy seeing you on your knees._

The door opened. "Sensei?" Yusuke said. "I'm home."

Madarame bared his teeth at her. "Time for your performance, Ms. Niijima. Best make it a good one."

The cold lump lodged further in her chest and a shell enveloped her mind. She felt as if she were watching herself rise from the chair and open the door. Yusuke sat on the couch. He frowned at her. "Sae? What are you doing here? You look like death." He stood and came to her. "There was a gallery I wanted to take you to, but we can postpone that."

"Yes, postpone it." The shell threatened to crack. He was such a good boy. He didn't deserve to be caught in the game of two adults who despised each other. And even if she came to him when this was over with the world to lay at his feet, she would break his heart today. Yusuke might never forgive her, and she would deserve it.

_Then you'll know what love does and seal another chink in your armor. This is the only way._

That didn't make this any easier. Madarame wanted a performance but he hadn't specified what kind. She could be gentle. She held up a hand "No, Yus-Kitagawa. Stay there please."

He stopped, his hands obediently at his sides, but his frown deepened. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

She should tell him to sit, for his own comfort, but he would want to sit next to her and the warmth of him would undo her. So she stayed where she was. "I've been doing some thinking. This _tendre_ we have. It should end."

There was no reaction for a long moment. Then he merely blinked. "Pardon?"

The words seemed to spill out as if they came from another person. "It's hardly fair to either of us. As interesting as it's been, we both deserve someone our own age. A prosecutor and a high school student. There's no future there. "

"I know." He looked down, and his voice was very small. "I never expected a future. I just wanted to be before a little while. And I thought you were happy too."

She ought to lie and crush him once and for all, but the words stuck in her throat. "I was lonely. You made me a little less lonely. But now it's time for us to wake up and face the real world." She patted him on the arm, half comforting, half trying to build an unbreachable wall between the adult and the child. "You'll make friends your own age. You have the next thing to a father. Madarame will keep you safe and happy."

"I never had a friend before you. That won't change. And Madarame..." He looked at her with shining eyes. "Please, you can't make my world so much bigger and then say I have to go back to before and not tell me what changed!"

"Please, don't." She had known greater pain and emptiness over the last three years, but she had never known the particular torture of feeling as if her heart was rolling around in broken glass. "Don't make this harder than it has to be. I'm not willing to accommodate you anymore. I'm tired of looking over my shoulder. I want someone I can kiss."

Yusuke shivered. His eyes flashed like the sky during the storm. Sae could almost see it. He would close remaining the distance between them. She would brush the hair from his eyes. And he would kiss her. His hands would cup both her cheeks ever so gently as not to damage the scarring. His mouth would be warm and he would pour all his rage and grief into the movement of his mouth. Anything to make her stay. It wouldn't matter that he was young and uncertain. Her resolve would crumble She would have him. She would use her lifetime of experience to please them both until Yusuke whimpered and pleaded for more. There would be so much to teach him. She would take him away from this filth. This abuse. Not even Madarame could keep them apart. Love would find a way And they would finally get their happy ending

But no. Yusuke staggered back and sank onto the patchy couch that Sae wouldn't have allowed an animal to sit on. "I'm only a little boy," he whispered. A foolish little boy who thought he could steal ambrosia. Go, please."

Sae made it out the door before she the tears fell. They were warm and burned the scars. Her scars. The indelible marks of all she had tried and failed to do. She couldn't even die properly, so she just kept existing without love or anything to live for.

_Not true. You have your revenge._ The thought forced her to straighten her shoulders. Madarame and Kaneshiro were wallowing in their ill-gotten gains. She couldn't fall apart like some lovesick teenager. Not when there was so much work to be done. Spite had seen her through her father's death. She had been a fool to want anything softer.

Her phone went off. Makoto, of all people. _Everything okay? I'm at the restaurant._

_I'm fine._

_Good. She's here. The boy I told you about._

A laugh tore from Sae's throat. Investigation on Kobyakawa's orders? More like her sister had hearts in her eyes for some delinquent. _You have better things to worry about. Your studies for one. Leave this investigation nonsense alone and join the real world._ She cut the phone off before Makoto could respond.

Now to that revenge. Nothing must stand in the way of finding out who ordered the mental shutdowns. Every contact she had, every minor transgression she had overlooked would be called in. It didn't matter who suffered. This game could only end one way. Sae would triumph. And Madarame would wish that she had only charged him with money laundering and tax evasion. The cold filled her until it was all she knew.

"Let's do this fair and square."


	11. Together Apart

So this was how the world ended. Yusuke buried his face in his hands, but no tears came. He had known in his head that this happiness could not last, that he was a schoolboy and Sae was a sophisticated attorney who had held the world in the palm of her hand. But that happiness had been so seductive that he had allowed himself to forget. And now she was gone and there was only a hollow emptiness where his heart had been.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there staring before the study door opened and Sensei approached. His face had pulled into a frown, and his eyes were soft. "Well, Ms. Niijima certainly left in a great hurry." He stopped to stand before Yusuke. "Oh, my poor boy. What happened to you?"

Yusuke looked up at him. For once, the traitorous voice in his heart was silent. He had doubted Sensei and dreamed of his independence because Sae had taught him to dream. But Sae was gone and Sensei was still here. Sensei needed him. "She doesn't want me anymore. You were right, and I was wrong. Oh, Sensei…"

"There, there. She always was fickle and cruel. Women often are." He patted Yusuke on the shoulder. "May your humble teacher offer you some advice? The trick is to throw yourself right back into your work. And with the exhibit so close, I can't have you wallowing in heartbreak. I need your skill."

Yusuke blinked. Paint? Now? He felt as if some part of his heart had left with Sae and carried all his artistic skill away. "How can I paint when I'm like this?"

"You simply need the proper inspiration. What about your earlier idea of painting the perfect woman? I admit I had my doubts, but it is a classic subject."

He had almost forgotten the idea. When he had fallen in love, he had discarded the idea of mythical perfection in favor of a real woman with all her scars and flaws. The ideal had seemed childish instead of noble. "You really think that will work?"

"Why not? If it was good enough for the masters, it's good enough for you." He paused, thinking. "I think it's time that I stopped treating you like a child. If you're old enough to get your heart broken, then you're old enough to paint a nude."

Heat spread across Yusuke's cheeks. Nudes had always seemed to be something that other, more worldly artists did. He couldn't imagine a stranger exposing the most intimate parts of themselves to him of all people. Sae had made it sound like part of her lovers' games. He had imagined in the dark of night seeing her and painting her as her former boyfriend had done, but asking had seemed impossible. "I don't know. I wouldn't even know how to find someone."

"Oh, there are any number of models eager for the exposure. Pardon the pun." He chuckled. "And quite willing to soothe your heartbreak afterwords if you take my meaning. You've been used, Yusuke. You may as well use back."

Yusuke stared back at him. Was this all that the world came down to? People using each other for glory and pleasure and then throwing each other away? Were his notions of decency as faulty as his notions of love? It shouldn't be so. And yet, and yet… "I place myself at your direction as always, Sensei."

"Excellent!" Sensei clapped his hands together. "I'll bring the car around, and we'll go to an agency that I know."

Fifteen minutes later they were stuck in the grind of Shibuya traffic, and Yusuke had a knot in his stomach. This was a foolish idea. No woman in her right mind would pose for him. He would be a blushing and stammering mess at best. If only-

Then he saw her: a flash of blonde hair amid a sea of black. Natural blonde too, not dyed like the boy next to her. Regular, aesthetically pleasing features. The sort of girl in every other painting in his art books. And if she lacked the curious magnetism that had made Sae beautiful to him, perhaps that was all to the good. There was no telling where a magnet could lead you. But this girl who was just exotic enough would allow him to create the kind of art Sensei and the rest of the world expected him to create. "Her," he murmured. "That's my model. Excuse me, Sensei."

He opened the car door and was out on the sidewalk before Sensei could say anything. He walked briskly toward the unknown girl. She wore a Shujin uniform, like Makoto. No, he would not think of any Niijima. They were his past. This girl was his future.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Yusuke blinked. The boy with the dyed hair stood right in front of him. "Sorry?"

"Don't give me that crap! You've been following us for half a block. Are you some kind of pervert stalker?"

Pervert stalker? Yusuke couldn't help himself. He laughed. Despite what Sensei said, carnal desire had vanished from his heart. "No, nothing of the kind. I'm an artist, and I wanted her to be the model for my new art piece."

The two stared at him but the girl recovered first. "Modeling? I mean, I've done some, but never for an artist."

"Then you would already have more experience than most." He fished his card case from his pocket and handed her one. "My name is Yusuke Kitagawa, apprentice of the great artist Madarame."

"Madarame? Isn't that the guy N-"

He was cut off by the girl elbowing him in the ribs. "Madarame? I've seen him on TV." A shadow passed over her face. "I might take you up on this offer. I've always wanted to see what Madarame was like. And who knows, maybe my friends and I can do something for you."

Yusuke frowned. "Your friends? I admit male nudes might be intriguing, but it's not what I'm looking for at the moment."

"Nude?" She paled. "I don't know about that. "

"I knew you were a pervert."

"No, I'm merely an artist seeking to overcome a profound disappointment." He looked again at their uniforms. Of course they would be skeptical after all that business with Kamoshida. He thought suddenly, unwillingly of Sae. He should have at least tried to convince her. Modeling should be an act of intimacy and trust, not something to be asked for on the street corner as if the models were food vendors. "You're more than welcome to bring your friends, and I promise I will take every care to make you feel safe." Sensei would have said that he was being overcautious, but he would keep his honor in this even if the rest of the world was fickle and cruel. "I have no prurient interest in you. I doubt I will have such interest for some time."

She thought. "Then I'll do it. My name is Ann Takamaki by the way. This is Ryuji. Maybe we can see each other soon."

* * *

"We got him!"

Sae let out a long breath. She had wanted to get as far away from organized crime as she could, but fate had pulled her back. Madarame had been as good as his word, and his records have let them to one Shuji Fujiwa, the owner of an import-export business with more wealth than taste. Rumored associate of half a dozen yakuza families and a persistent pain in the ass to everyone in the the organized crime investigation unit for the past twenty years. Her father included.

She took the warrant from her bag. "Yes you did. I'll want an interrogation room set up as soon as possible."

"Always business with you these days, Niijima," the officer on duty said. "I remember when you would get down in the dirt with us grunts and celebrate."

Sae grimaced. She had been a carefree, charming fool eager to be respected and loved by her colleagues. She gripped her cane. "And where did that get me? Set up the interrogation room, and I'll get started."

"So dutiful," her director said behind her.

Sae turned to find her director and Akechi. Akechi was engrossed in something on his phone. "The press is going to be all over this," her director continued. He frowned and looked at Akechi. "At this rate, you'll be stealing the poor boy's glory."

"Only doing my job, sir. Fujiwa could be our first real break in the mental shutdown case, and we can bring down major organized crime figures besides." And if it brought back some fraction of her old power, then she would be that much closer to having Yusuke back in her life.

Akechi looked up from her phone with a tired smile. "Oh, I never did it for the glory. Merely for the truth and seeing the corrupt get their just desserts. Sae has worked very hard on this case. Let her have a little recognition." His smile faded. "You do look tired, and I haven't seen Kitagawa lately. Is everything all right?"

"I assume he's working." And right now work was the only path back to him and her vengeance against Madarame. "I really do need to begin this interrogation as soon as possible."

"So you do," her director said. "Fujiwa's been taken to the secure interrogation unit."

Sae shivered. After the nerve gas attacks, the Ministry of Justice had authorized the special interrogation unit to help prevent further terrorist attacks. It was for those too dangerous to be interrogated normally. Not two-bit real businessmen. "Are we that worried about the yakuza?"

"A precaution, from what I've been told." He looked her up and down, taking in the scars and the cane. "You know how bold they've gotten these past three years. And Fujiwa had his fingers in a lot of pies."

"I see." There was something odd about that, but she wasn't paid to second-guess her superiors. "Thank you, sir."

She had been underground only a handful of times. If hell had existed, it would have been like this place. The lighting was harsh, and the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on her. A relic of the country's unfortunate past when someone could disappear for saying the wrong words and the police could do whatever they needed to make them stop. You could kill someone down here and the world above would be none the wiser. Her father would have hated this place. The Champion of Justice would have hated this place.

Sae grit her teeth. This place was her best hope of grinding Madarame into the dirt. If she were unsettled, imagine what Fujiwa felt. He was a soft man and would be easy to turn with fear as her ally. She would come back with a list full of names and leads, and then she would throw herself at Yusuke's feet and beg his forgiveness.

Fujiwa was even less impressive in person. His suit looked cheap and fit poorly. He ran a thick finger around his collar as she entered, and his eyes bulged ever so slightly. This weasel was what had escaped the law for so many years? It would have been funny if it weren't so infuriating.

Sae took her time with the camera check and the other pre-interrogation formalities. Fujiwa stared openly at her scars with visible, increasing agitation. Good. Her appearance was just one more card in her hand, and she intended to play them all. Finally, she opened her investigation notebook.

"Your missteps have finally caught up with the you, Fujiwa. Laundering money?" She shook her head. "And I know someone with your...taste doesn't buy original Madarames. Especially without shouting from the rooftops that you own one. So why don't you tell me why you needed all that money cleaned up and maybe you won't spend the whole rest of your life behind bars."

He laughed, nervous and broken. "You think I'm worried about prison? They'll kill me if I turn on them."

"The yakuza? They might. But we can kill just as well Fujiwa." She leaned forward in her seat. "Because that money you laundered? It's already paid for one man's death. Probably many more than that. That makes you eligible for the noose. Now, I don't think you came up with this plan on your own, but I'm happy to work with that theory unless you give me names."

His hand went to his throat, and he swallowed. "I...I..."

"My time is too valuable to waste with rambling. You had best decide now."

"It wasn't me! Kaneshiro said he could kill anyone and no one would be able to pin it on him. All I did was hide the money."

The world shifted. Sae gripped the table as the room filled with smoke. She could feel flames licking at her skin. Kaneshiro. Her mind recoiled. No, not him. Anyone but him. She wouldn't escape death a second time. Her breath came in quick gasps as Fujiwa became a charred corpse. _Dad!_ Her mind scrambled for some purchase, but she felt as if she were trapped in a whirlpool where past and present mixed together.

A choking sound cut through the maelstrom and dragged her back to the interrogation room. Fujiwa clawed at his throat. He convulsed as his eyes rolled back in his head. Sae watched in exhausted, numb horror as blood trickled from his eyes and mouth. Instead of a ruined apartment, her mind filled with autopsy reports. _Another one,_ said a whisper in the dark. "Help!" Her voice was a croak. It was already too late.

Half an hour later, she was huddled in her director's office, still shivering. He peered at her from across the desk, condescension and contempt plain on his face. "The official cause of death will be a heart attack. We will of course keep your name out of any inquiries."

Her grandmother had died of a heart attack. This wasn't one. She tried to make her voice even. It didn't work. "Before he died, Fujiwa pinned everything on Kaneshiro." She exhaled. The game truly was rigged against her. All those months of work, and she had been battling a foe that she never could have hoped to defeat all along. _I'm sorry, Yusuke._ "You'll have my notice of recusal on your desk in the morning."

"And why should you recuse yourself? There's no one in this office more passionate about this case than you."

Sae stared at him. "Sir! My history alone...no judge would allow it."

"It depends on the judge. We're all biased against cop-killers." He steepled his fingers. "No, Niijima, I think you're the only one who can take this case. You know Kaneshiro better than anyone: how he thinks, how he operates. Whether it's safe to proceed." His lips thinned. "Any prosecutor would kill for the chance that I'm giving you. Of course, if your health precludes it, I'm sure a suitable position could be found for you. Document review, perhaps."

Document review. A sinecure dangled only because he couldn't get rid of her outright. All those people who had thought she should have politely retired or worse were right after all. There was no place for a crippled husk of a lawyer in this world. But what choice did she have? She couldn't face Kaneshiro again. Not without going mad.

_I can_ , said Leviathan's voice inside her head. _Just like I could say what needed to be said to Yusuke_. _Let me in._

Sae's head snapped up. This part of her was darker, true, but it was still her, wasn't it? And stronger than her ordinary self. The only way she could not only survive Kaneshiro but get back Yusuke and the perks of fame and glory. The cold lump hardened around her heart. "Two months, no one month from now, and Kaneshiro will be at my mercy for once."

Her director smiled. "I'll hold you to that deadline."

Sae limped down the stairs. There was so much to be done. Warrants to be drawn up, low-level members of Kaneshiro's organization to be brought in for questioning. She wished she had old investigation notebook, but what was left of that had never been recovered. Oh well. She had rebuilt so much after the firebombing that reconstructing that would be nothing.

"Ms. Niijima? Please, you have to help me."

Sae turned. A Shujin student was rushing through the lobby towards her. Her eyes narrowed. The very same student that she had recruited to testify against Kamoshida before the Phantom Thieves debacle. "What do you want?"

She skidded to a stop in front of Sae. "My friend...she's been arrested for drug dealing, but a yakuza blackmailed her into doing it. You're a prosecutor. You can save her. "

The hair on Sae's neck stood on end. Blackmailing and enslaving children was Kaneshiro's signature, why she and her father had targeted him all those years ago. This could be the break she needed. She pulled the girl into a quiet corner of the lobby. "You came to the right person. Did your friend tell you the name of this yakuza?"

"No ma'am. She was scared out of her mind, afraid he would kill her."

_Just like Fujiwa_."I can't help your friend without a name. This isn't a bar fight that can go away with a few thousand yen and an apology. She has to do something for me if she wants me to intervene. A name."

"But she can't! She's going to have her life ruined and it isn't even her fault." She clawed at Sae's free arm. "Please, Ms. Niijima. I was ready to testify against Kamoshida for you. Doesn't that count for something?"

Sae yanked her arm away. "But you didn't. I don't make a habit of charity."

The girl's eyes were large and watery. "You're a prosecutor! Your job is to help people."

"No. You seem like a nice enough girl, so I'm going to let you in on a secret." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "No one in this office cares about justice. My job is to convict people. To win. You either help or you get out of the way."


	12. Awakening

Takamaki removed yet another layer of clothing, and Yusuke felt himself growing a little paler. Even he knew this wasn't how erotic modeling was supposed to work. The two boys she had brought with her—Sakomoto and a boy with messy hair named Kurusu-kept fidgeting and staring back at the hallway. As if none of them wanted the session to begin. Like him. "If I didn't know better, I would think that you didn't want to model."

All three of their faces went scarlet. "I—I'm just a little nervous," Takamaki said. "You seeing me like well, you know..."

He wasn't sure that he wanted to see her like that either. All the technical perfection that the world could ask for standing right there and Yusuke still thought only of scars and canes and how he could show one woman as she was beautiful. "Would it help if I left the room while you disrobed?"

"No!" said Kurusu. "I mean, don't you have stuff to set up in here?"

"I did that some time ago. And why are you in a panic?" Today had been very strange, even allowing for the novel circumstances. Repeatedly asking him when Sensei was coming home, her clothing, the way the two boys kept pacing. He'd even thought he had heard a _meow_ once or twice. But he had learned a few things about how to read people from this time with Sae. He waved at Takamaki. "If you don't wish to model for me, you're free to leave. I would hate to upset your boyfriend."

Takamaki's eyes went wide. "Boyfriend? He's not my boyfriend. In fact…" She took a deep breath and drew closer to Yusuke. "I'm really nervous about this whole nude thing, but I've got to do it. Ever since I saw you on the street, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you." She threw her arms around him. "I'm in love with you. Please, you have to paint me. Again and again and again if we have to!"

Yusuke froze. Her hands felt tight and hot on his neck, like manacles dipped in molten lava. He wrenched himself away. "Don't touch me like that. Please." He shivered. He must be truly defective to respond to her so, but there was no helping it. "I told you before: I'm interested in you as a model only. I've had a passionate attachment. It didn't work out. I intend to devote myself solely to my work, so if you were hoping for a date, I suggest you leave now."

She blinked, and her ardor vanished so quickly that Yusuke was left further unsettled. "I'm sorry. Someone I love is in the hospital. It's not the same but I don't really feel much like dating either."

"Then why-" Yusuke was interrupted by a crash coming from the storage room. The one Sensei always kept locked and threatened to expel any apprentices who tried to open it. He ignored their cries and Takamaki weakly pulling at his sleeve and broke into a dead run. The door was open. A black and white cat stood in front of it with a lockpick in its mouth, blinking guiltily at him. A cat who picked locks? "Is that why you're here? You're burglars who make use of household pets? I'll give you points for cleverness if nothing else, though as you can see, you chose the wrong house."

But Takamaki was staring beyond him. "I don't think we did."

Yusuke turned and felt his knees grow rubbery under him. No one had seen _Sayuri_ in the decade since it had been stolen. Even he had only seen reproductions. But here were dozens upon dozens of them, the original meticulously re-created down to the last brushstroke. "What? Why would Sensei have so many imitations?" He stumbled forward to look at one. The signature at the bottom was beyond what any forger could do. "He made all these himself?" It couldn't be. The greatest artist in the country didn't become a common art forger.

Footsteps sounded behind them. Sensei's face had gone white and his lips trembled with rage. "What is the meaning of this, Yusuke?" he spluttered. "I told you never to come in here!"

He ought to have bowed his head and apologized as he had a hundred times before. But each fake was a question that demanded answers, and his love for art crowded out fear. "I'd like to know the answer to that myself. Fakes, Sensei? Why would you bastardize your own work so?"

Sensei froze for a long moment and Yusuke could almost see him schooling his muscles into place like a witness preparing his testimony. His eyes became like those of a kicked puppy, his voice soft and syrupy sweet. "Oh, my poor boy. I had hoped to keep this from you. The truth is that our financial situation is dire. And there are a lot of very rich, very stupid people who want the cache of owning the real _Sayuri_ , even if they can never exhibit it publicly. Who better to provide for them than the true artist?"

Yusuke looked from the paintings to Sensei and back again. Memory stirred. Whatever else Sae was, she wasn't a liar. Madarame had a mistress. He received all sorts of gifts from his friends in the art world. This poverty existed only so they could create. He could have chosen a thousand other options rather than cheat people and corrupt his masterwork like this. "I don't believe you. The man who painted _Sayuri_ never would have done this."

Kurusu pushed up his glasses. "Are you even the guy who painted Sayuri? Nakanohara told us that you steal your students' work."

They knew? How could they know? Sensei had assured him that they were done for if the world discovered his deception. Natsuhiko hadn't spoken to him in almost a year, hadn't been an apprentice for longer. They had never been close, but he was yet another orphan Sensei had taken in. No one could be so ungrateful. More than that… Sensei had only revealed his art block after he had left. How long had this been going on?

Sensei transformed. He drew himself to his full height and rage flashed across his face like lightning. "You brats know, do you? Which of my enemies sent you?" He whipped out his phone as if it were a weapon. "I'll have all of you arrested on burglary charges. The police will know how to make you talk."

He'd gone mad. He must have. "Don't be absurd, Sensei."

Sensei stormed up to him until Yusuke could feel hot breath on his face. "Absurd am I? I've had nothing but trouble from you since that bitch showed up. It's time I taught you a lesson. You'll go along with this or I'll have you charged as an accomplice and we'll see how Niijima likes prosecuting you. Now, all of you, out! And take this damned cat with you!"

Yusuke stood on the sidewalk, staring at the house. That thing...Sensei was strict and demanding, with a few human foibles, but that man ranted and raved. He was a criminal. "What was that?" he asked no one in particular.

The cat meowed furiously. "Yeah, you're right. We did what we came here to do," Sakomoto said. "And now we know for sure that we have to take Madarame down."

Were they talking to the cat? "What did you come here to do? Why are you really here?"

The cat meowed again. They all looked at each other and the three humans took out their phones. "I can't explain it," Kurusu said. "But maybe I can show you. Ichiryuusai Madarame. Artist. Shack. Gallery."

The world turned purple, and Yusuke felt like he was being squeezed through a very small tube of toothpaste. When he dared open his eyes again, he discovered that he wasn't in Tokyo. Where the atelier had stood a moment before, there was a gallery covered in more gilding than Yusuke had ever seen in his life. Security guards kept order among the masses of screaming fans. He looked at the others, and what was left of his composure evaporated. They weren't wearing their uniforms. Takamaki looked like an American comic book villain, Sakomoto a thug, and Kurusu a magician. All of them wore masks. And the cat...the cat stood on his hind legs, as tall as a small child and with a hand as big as its body. "You took this way better Skull," it said. "I'm not sure how much use he'll be."

"I've lost my mind. Sensei's right. I really am crazy."

The cat scowled. "Don't be like that. You're in the Metaverse and this is your Sensei's heart. I'm Morgana by the way, but you have to call me Mona during infiltrations."

Heart? Infiltrations? "You're the Phantom Thieves? The ones who stopped Kamoshida?"

"Okay, maybe you won't be completely useless."

Takamaki removed her mask, revealing a completely ordinary face. "It's still us. We can remove the darkness from people's hearts. Make them feel guilty. Neat, huh?"

He remembered Sae's ashen complexion. "Terrifying. So… You think Sensei's heart is dark? Today was extreme, but..." _No_ , said the traitorous voice. _Today was the end of a long chain of horrible days._ "That gallery is his heart? What's inside?"

"How he thinks of the world and everyone in it. His distorted desires. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

What he truly thought of everyone. Of Yusuke. "No, I can no longer shut my eyes."

Kurusu smiled behind the mask and offered his hand. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Yusuke wished he had brought his paintbrush. The Phantom Thieves leapt effortlessly from perch to perch as if the laws of physics were merely suggestions and every moment revealed a new kaleidoscope of color until Kurusu carried him through the skylight and into the gallery proper. The gallery held no such visual delights. Simply more gilding. There was no beauty here, just the horrible taste of a man who didn't know when to stop. "This is how Sensei sees the world?" This was the true nature of the man who had created so much beauty? But he was still closest thing Yusuke had ever had to a father. "You said that you take distortions out. He's a good man. Help him see rightly."

Laughter filled the room and made Yusuke's blood run cold. "Oh, my boy. You were always so sweet."

A half-dozen security guards swarmed the room. Their faces were masks with pulsing blackness where the eyes should be. The others tensed, but Kurusu smiled. "Get ready for a magic show." He ripped off his mask and a trickle of blood dripped from his eyes. "Jack Frost!" The mask became a glowing white light in his hand. An enormous snowman in a jester's cap appeared out of the air and opened its cavernous grin of a mouth. Ice spewed out, leaving two of the fiends frozen solid. "Try to top that, guys."

"Carmen!"

"Captain Kidd!"

"Zorro!"

The room filled with fire and lightning and wind until none of the fiends remained. Yusuke shivered. This was raw power and beauty. He simply must come back here with his paints and canvas. Only... "What were those things?"

"Oh you mean the Shadows? As best we can tell, they're fragments of the collective unconscious that latch themselves onto a stronger personality. In this case, Madarame."

"I mean the things emanating from your masks. The ones responsible for that truly captivating light show. You must allow me to re-create it."

"Those are our Personas. Mona here calls them the will of our rebellion. They're a physical manifestation of us not taking any more crap from adults. Understand me so far?"

_Not even a little bit._ "Perfectly."

"Stop lying, boy. You never understood your own heart, much less anyone else's." Sensei's voice again, but closer. He stepped into the light. At least Yusuke thought it was Sensei. He wore a kimono of finer materials than Yusuke had ever seen him wear. but the gold was as excessive as the rest of this place His hair was done up in a topknot that looked vaguely like a paintbrush, and he wore far too much makeup. But the thing that made Yusuke's blood run cold was his smile, his red lips pulled back like a corpse's grin. "You never understood anything, and it's made you so easy to manipulate."

His mouth went dry. "Manipulate?"

"I didn't tale you in for charity. Cattle are raised for their hide and meat. Humans are no different. Drain the genius dry. And it's so much easier to do with bastard children who have nowhere else to go and no way to fight back. You'll work for me until you rot."

"You're the bastard!" Sakomoto yelled.

Yusuke sank to his knees and covered his ears. This had to be a lie. Sensei loved him, looked after him. He had taught him his colors and nursed skinned knees. Maybe he wasn't a perfect father, but he was the only father Yusuke had. The only person who wouldn't abandon him. Even if what he said at were true, Yusuke had nowhere else to go.

"Language, brat!" snapped the false Sensei. "Even he knows that he can't leave me. No one will take him. Of course, that took some effort to arrange. Especially with Niijima."

Yusuke looked up. "What did you say?"

He laughed. "I finally got my revenge on her. She took my mistress from me, so I threatened to charge her with raping you. A fair punishment. Oh, how she raged. I imagine she's home crying right now. She should have died years ago. Maybe you should have too. After all, that's the thing about up apprentices. I can always get…" He snapped his fingers and more of the phantom security guards appeared. "…more."

_How long will you endure this?_ whispered the traitorous voice in his heart. _You know it's true. Sae would never abandon you. Think. Where did she come from that day? Not the front door._

No. No. She had come from…Sensei's study. Madarame's study. And she had looked like death. She hadn't wanted to abandon him at all. Yusuke stood at last. "You fiend," he whispered. "I cannot forgive this."

_At last! Let us forge a contract, you and I._ Something hard and sharp fell over Yusuke's face. _Remove the mask. It will hurt. Justice always does, but only then will you be free._

Yusuke ripped away the mask and it was like tearing away his own flesh. Pain such as he had never known filled him. Pain yes, but power too. Like that of a winter storm. _I am thou. Thou art I. for too long, you had been blind. See at last beauty and vice and know which is which. Call me by my name. You have always known it._

He had, hadn't he? "Come, Goemon!"

Blue light filled the room, and an enormous man in voluminous robes towered over the security guards. He laughed and opened his hand, and the room filled with ice until the fiends were encased from head to toe. He tapped one. It exploded as if it were nothing more than papier-mâché. Sensei's eyes grew comically wide. He turned tail and ran, yellow robes flowing behind him and his minions left helpless.

Yusuke had no time to enjoy his triumph. Goemon vanished and with him Yusuke's adrenaline, and he was left groping blindly as he fell into Kurusu. "Easy, easy," he murmured as he held Yusuke up. "This takes a lot out of you. We need to get you home." He frowned behind the mask. "I never would have pictured you as a fox."

Yusuke looked down. He wasn't wearing his own clothing but something like a bandit's outfit that he had seen on TV once. And…was that a tail. He felt the mask. Fox-shaped. "How very odd." A wave of nausea hit him. "Leaving would be welcome."

The real world seemed almost unnaturally static when they returned. Every muscle in Yusuke's body screamed, and he allowed himself to be led to a noodle shop without much protest. That thieving sociopath was Sensei. No, Madarame. He had never cared about Yusuke. Funny. He had always thought truth and beauty were linked, but there was no beauty in this. "What happens now?"

"Now?" Sakomoto asked. "We kick his ass, just like we kicked Kamoshida's."

Kamoshida. He mustn't forget who and what he was dealing with. "You're going to make him feel sorry for everything he's done and confess? I know I shouldn't wish, but can you do more? He's the only father I've ever had." He swallowed a lump in his throat. "Can you make him care for me?"

Morgana shook his head. "We're thieves. We just take the bad out. People have to put the good in themselves."

"So I truly am alone."

"You've got us if you want." Sakomoto threw his arm around him. "Those were some really sick ice powers that you were throwing around and we could always use more champions of justice."

Champions of justice. Yusuke shivered. No, he wasn't alone. There was one beautiful, wonderful woman who had been hurt terribly by all this. He had to make things right for her. "There's a prosecutor, Sae Niijima, who is investigating the mental shutdowns."

Kurusu frowned. "I know a Makoto Niijima. She's been trying to figure out how we're connected to Kamoshida. The sister's looking into us as well? Oh boy."

"I know her. She used to be on TV all the time. Total hottie back then, but now she looks like a walking corpse."

Yusuke glared at Sakomoto. "Don't defame her. She is the woman I love." Weight slid from his shoulders and saying the words aloud. "I love her."

They stared at him. "Love her?" Takamaki asked. "But she's...she hasn't hurt you?"

"You've met the only person who hurt me."Yusuke shivered again. "I want to help you stop Sensei. It has to be me. I kept silent for so long, and it's the only way I can put things right for me or for her."

"Are you going to sell us out?"

He thought of Sae seized with grief and rage when she spoke of the Phantom Thieves. They would be a feather in her cap, to be sure, but even if she believed him about the talking cat, it seemed dishonorable to betray the people who had shown him the truth. "As long as your actions are noble, your secret is mine."

"Then welcome to the team...Fox."

Fox? He rather liked the sound of that. "Please excuse me. I must pay a call to a lady."

His heart and stomach both seemed lodged in his throat as he stood outside Sae's door. Makoto should be at cram school, and the security guard had led him in without a problem, but there were still so many unknowns. He had never made a romantic confession before, and the ones in movies and manga seemed dreadfully overwrought. And he couldn't know for certain that Sae felt the same way. Madarame's heart was distorted after all. Oh, if only he had figured out his own feelings sooner.

_Take courage,_ said _Goemon. If she doesn't love you, then you will know and your heart can begin to heal. But if she does, you can both finally be happy._

His other self was right. Either way, the truth would set him free. He knocked on the door and waited.

The sight of Sae brought tears to his eyes. The good half of her face was ashen, and circles like bruises ringed her eyes. Her cheeks were hollow. She stared at him in pure shock for a long moment. "Yus—Kitagawa. You shouldn't be here."

"I know how Madarame threatened you. May I come in?"

Her eyes went wide, but she stepped back and Yusuke chose to take that as a good sign. He entered and she closed and locked the door behind him. Her hand trembled almost imperceptibly as the key clicked home. "You know?"

"That he threatened to bring you up on charges if you didn't terminate your relationship with me. He did it to isolate me." His voice broke. "So he could continue using me as a slave."

She exhaled, and her voice was rough and broken. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to cause you pain. But Madarame has me right where he wants me. Give me six months, a year, and I'll be strong enough to stop him. But until then..."

"You're strong enough now." He dared take a step forward, and she didn't back up. "I found out some other things, too, and I'm ready to confess yet more. Madarame's days as the deity of the art world are finished." He took a deep breath. Whatever happened, the truth must out. "If you don't want to risk it, I can't blame you. But I must say at least this much. I love you, and I want to stay with you whenever happens."

She blinked rapidly. "Yusuke." She extended a hand and he came to her. The warmth of her skin felt like home. "I love you too. Heaven help me."

What weight remained on his chest floated away as if it was nothing more than a feather. The tears that had threatened came out at last, and there was nothing to do but fall into her embrace. Her free hand ran over his back and tangled into his hair, playing with the strands as she murmured soothing nonsense words. Yusuke buried his nose into her neck.

Sae pulled away first. "Do you mind if we sit? My leg…it's been a rough couple of weeks."

"Of course." Yusuke allowed her to lead him to the couch. He snuggled into her as she put her arm around him to keep him close. So this was what it was to be safe and warm and loved. "I wish I never had to leave."

"I know." Her brows knit together. "I finally have one name to go on, but the rest of the world won't believe us over the man who might as well be your father."

Yusuke stiffened. "That fiend is not my father!" he said with more force than he intended. "Sae, there are things you need to know about me and about Madarame. Oh, I've been a weak sniveling coward."

She listened in silence as he told her about the _Sayuris_ and about how Madarame had stolen his work. Yusuke could almost see the prosecutor drawing up a list of charges. But there were other things she needed to know, as Sae. So he told her about the nights without food, the way Madarame had made him believe through a thousand little things that he was broken and that their life together was normal. "And perhaps I am broken. A normal person wouldn't have endured this for thirteen years."

"My poor sweetheart. A normal person wouldn't have survived for thirteen years." She pressed a small kiss to his temple. "I don't care what I have to do, but I swear to you that you will never go back to that life. If I have to bring all of Japan to its knees, you will be safe."

"All I want is you. You don't have to fight all my battles for me." Not when today had shown him what power he could wield. "I do have one question though. That day you told me you wanted someone you could kiss?"

Half her face turned a pleasant shade of pink then made Yusuke wish again for his paintbrush. "I would have said anything to make you go away that day. Forgive me."

"No, it's only..." His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and he was fairly certain that he was turning pink himself. "May I kiss you? People say that the first kiss is supposed to be with someone you love and—please? I would very much like it to be you."

Sae's answer was to place one finger under his chin and lean in. He felt her breath on his mouth before he felt her lips. He closed his eyes. She was soft, gentle. Her face brushed against his, and he could feel the smooth, almost inhuman porcelain and the rough, thick scarring. Yusuke pressed back. He wanted all of her: the brilliant prosecutor who had terrified even the yakuza and the art lover who had scandalized Tokyo. The woman who had broken down on the street and the woman who held him so tenderly now. All of that was Sae Niijima.

Sae pulled back, breathless. "Like that?"

He could only nod. Reality was so much better than his imagination. "I can only hope I was adequate for you."

"Oh, so much more than adequate." Her smile made him shiver. "And we'll have all the time in the world to refine our technique."

Yusuke laughed and returned his head to her shoulder. They had nothing but time. He would see justice done with his new friends and reclaim what Madarame had tried to steal from him. And, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be alone. "I can't wait to see what the future holds."


	13. Before the Storm

Sae could say one thing for the Phantom Thieves: they'd managed to improve on her fantasy of making Madarame break. Mucus poured out of his nose and he didn't bother to wipe it as he wept. "I am a mere facsimile of an artist! I plagiarized my students' work and destroyed their careers once they were no longer useful to me. I murdered the true creator of _Sayuri_. I-"

Her director turned off the television. "Another one. Once might be construed as revenge, but this is a pattern of vigilantism."

A pattern of ending cases that were her responsibility before she could act. Reminding her how little power she had. "It may be more than mere vigilantism. This changing hearts business, it seems quite similar to the rampages and mental shutdowns. I think they're connected somehow, in method if not in motive." And if she could discover how the Phantom Thieves did it, she would be that much closer to unmasking this conspiracy. "Permission to pursue?"

He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "As long as you see to your other duties. All of them."

He meant Kaneshiro. "I'm not as fragile as I may seem. He will fall."

Her director dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and Sae hobbled down the stairs and out the lobby and into the street. She had to crack these cases. Not just for her own pride or the revenge that had driven her, but for Makoto and Yusuke. Sae had grown up poor, and the financial abuse Yusuke had endured made her want to sneak into the prison and stab Madarame herself. He and Makoto deserved all the perks that came with Sae being a successful prosecutor. To give them anything less was to betray them.

A flash of red caught her eye. A replica of the latest, more stylish calling card of the Phantom Thieves stood in the window of a souvenir shop. The sign proudly advertised posters and T-shirts as well. Sae dug her nails into her palm. They had made merchandise like that for the Champion of Justice once upon a time. It was one thing to cede her place to Akechi, but to vigilantes? That was an insult.

_They have to end_ , whispered Leviathan. _At any cost. Don't let any parasites drag you down._

Sae shook her head to clear it. She had been lost in a haze of rage and grief after Madarame's blackmail. lost enough to give herself over to hallucinations that should have stayed in her opioid-induced nightmares. But Yusuke was back, and she didn't need to project her baser impulses onto an alternate personality.

_Alternate? I'm the real you. But I'll be good for now._

The juvenile detention center was a gray, squat building with a wall separating it from the outside world. Sae submitted to a search of her person and belongings with this much grace as she could before being ushered into the visitation room. She had been unduly harsh the other day. So many students had been caught in Kaneshiro's web over the years. She could free one. All the girl had to do was go on record with what Sae already knew.

The girl was a wisp who looked as if a strong breeze would knock her over. Her eyes went wide when she saw Sae. "Ms. Niijima!"

"I see my reputation precedes me," Sae said with a half smile. "Your friend sent me. I'm here, if a bit late. I want to help."

"I don't want your help. I don't want anything to do with prosecutors office."

Sae rubbed her temples. "Don't be an idiot. Do you know how many years a drug trafficking charge carries, even for a juvenile? Not to mention collateral consequences. I can get you out of here today. All I need is a name. A name that I'll wager we both know."

The girl shook her head. "No way." Her voice dropped off for so that Sae had to strain to hear her through the glass. "He talks about you all the time. Brags about what he did to you and your dad." She stared at Sae's scars. "Whatever you can do to me will wear off a lot sooner than what he can do. I'd rather be dead than you."

Sae recoiled as if she had been struck. She had deluded herself that Kaneshiro had forgotten her, that he had other worries than a crippled prosecutor. But if he remembered, then it was only a matter of time before he came from her and Makoto. No, she wouldn't let her thoughts wander in that direction. That way lay madness. Shadows. "Your choice," she said and stood. "The facility knows how to get in touch with me if you change your mind..

It was a relief to head home to Yoyogi. Even Kaneshiro had no power here. She took a deep breath and entered. Makoto and Yusuke were watching the news. Sae forced her heart to steady. They had been through so much. She wouldn't burden them with terrors from a world they should never know. "Did you two have a good day at school?"

"As good as I ever do," Yusuke said. "I prefer here." He was almost too charming sometimes.

"It's-"

Whatever Makoto was going to say was cut off by the newscaster. "And in other news, the mysterious Phantom Thieves have struck yet again. No calling card this time, but a teenager has suddenly confessed to a burglary ring that had police baffled. Who else could it be? Who are these mystery men?"

Sae suppressed a groan, barely. Was she still dogged by the Thieves even in her own home?

But Makoto held her chin in her hands. "Who _are_ they? The principal thinks that they're Shujin students. I'm supposed to find out who they are, but I can't help but admire them a little. They stopped Kamoshida and all those terrible things Madarame did to Yusuke." She looked at him. "I'm so sorry. Is it okay to break the law for good reasons like that?"

Oh no. Sae knew that starry eyed look in her sister's eyes. She had once reserved it for their father and this time the consequences could be much more serious than stealing his policeman's hat to play cops and robbers. "Taking the law into your own hands is dangerous. I'm grateful Kamoshida and Madarame are going to prison, but what if the Phantom Thieves hurt an innocent person? What if they inspire some kid to go out and get themselves killed taking on the world? The world is dangerous enough for students these days."

"I know you're right but…" Makoto didn't sound convinced.

"They can be both," Yusuke said quietly. "Dangerous and just. I don't know why they targeted Madarame, but I'm profoundly glad they did. But having the power to make people be good is frightening. I can only hope they maintain their integrity in the future."

Sae swallowed. These poor kids who had suffered so much and still only wanted to do good. They didn't know about wolves like Kaneshiro. Sae had bent over backwards to ensure that they never knew. Ignorance was safety. "No more investigating. I can only handle one teenage detective at a time." The image of the detention center flashed unbidden in her mind. If Kaneshiro ever moved against her, he wouldn't hesitate to enslave them. And if she let that happen, she may as well have died in the fire. "There's a blackmail ring targeting students that's become a problem. Keep your head down, and check your lockers and bags every day. If you see something you can't identify, go to a police officer immediately. And don't let anybody you don't know take a picture of you. And stay away from Shinjuku!"

Makoto turned in her seat and took Sae's hand. "Everything will be all right, Sis. I'll stay safe, I promise."

"Such a good girl." Sae ruffled her hair. She was being silly. As naïve as she could be, Makoto had never done anything more adventurous than going karaoke with her friends. "I've just had a stressful day."

"Ah. Well, I've actually got an interview for an internship tonight. Yusuke, do you mind helping Sis with dinner before you go back to Kosei?"

Yusuke blushed almost imperceptibly. "No problem at all."

He waited until Makoto had gone before scooting closer and brushing his lips across Sae. "You don't think she knows do you?" He smiled. "I've survived hell and it has made me reckless." Her feelings must have shown on her face because he frowned. "What's wrong? I haven't done anything truly foolish, have I?"

"No. But Madarame was hell. I'm so sorry about your mother. To do that and pretend to be a loving father…" The reminders of how evil the world was and how helpless she was in the face of it were everywhere. "That's twice now I've had to have children do my job for me. I couldn't even save you. Because I was a coward."

"No more than I was, and you saved me in a thousand little ways from the first day I saw your hands until now." He turned his head slightly and kissed her properly. He was so soft, so very soft, and his hands lightly skimmed her arms, careful not to press too hard on her scarring. Sae whimpered happily. Such a simple thing, a kiss. She had almost forgotten what they were like. She ran her fingers through his hair and it was a joy to explore again and be explored in turn. Yusuke made a pleased noise of his own and it was all Sae could do not to ravish him right there. No one had wanted her for three years. Except Yusuke.

He pulled away, adorably red and ruffled. "You astonish me, truly. I have no idea how I managed to refrain from that for so long."

Sae laughed a little. "Don't force yourself. I won't do anything you don't want."

"That's the difficulty. I want to do everything." He busied himself with fixing her own errant hair, trailing long slim fingers down her good cheek as he did so. "Madarame taught me to see wrongly. To think I once thought only your hands were beautiful. What a fool I was."

Sae raised an eyebrow. She could accept that he found her attractive, somehow, but words meant things. "You don't have to flatter me. I know that I'm not beautiful."

"But you are." He furrowed his brow. "How to explain it? There's a difference between aesthetically pleasing and beautiful. Madarame placed too much emphasis on the first. But beauty is something deeper. The outer reveal of inner good character." His hand hovered over the right side of her face, not quite touching the scars. "You kept fighting when all the world told you to give up. Not only that, you thrived. You are the first person to take care of me. How could I not find that beautiful?"

Sae wiped her eyes and looked at him, but he had the same serious expression he always had when he talked about art. "I don't deserve you."

"Have you not been listening to me explicate your good qualities? If I am capable of a _Sayuri_ , it will be with you as a muse." He shifted slightly. "Besides, I have tried to paint aesthetic perfection. It didn't go well."

"Oh?"

He colored. "Madarame thought the best way to make me forget you was to have me create a new portrait. The session was... uncomfortable. And I'm afraid rather short on nudity. I did make some good friends, though."

Sae bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Someday I want the full story on that. And I want to meet your friends."

"You do? You're not jealous?"

Prison was far, far too good for Madarame. "Why would I be? I presume you're not curled up on her couch kissing her. I want your world to be bigger than me and Makoto. And I want to be part of your whole life, not just some clandestine affair."

"I'll see if something can be arranged." He lapsed into silence for several minutes, thoughtful but content to let her trace patterns on his neck and shoulders. "Might I ask you something? A favor?"

"Name it."

"As I said, the entire time I was with Ann, I could think only that you should be my model. Would you ever consider posing nude for me?" He swallowed. "I understand that it could never be displayed publicly, and I don't mean it as the erotic prelude you're accustomed to, but I would like to. Very much."

Sae froze as her brain ground to a halt. Pose nude? For Yusuke? "I don't think that would be a very good idea."

He hung his head. "I see. I suppose it would be rather inappropriate. Foolish of me to ask."

"No, not foolish. You could never be foolish." Now it was her turn to fumble for words. How did she explain to her current boyfriend that her old boyfriend had become nauseous at the sight of her? That Yusuke's praise and attention had soothed wounds so deep that she thought they would never be healed. That she couldn't bear seeing revulsion in his eyes. She took his hand. "The scarring is worse under my clothes, especially my leg. I'm not ready to show that to anyone."

"Oh." He laced their fingers together. "You would never repulse me."

She wished she could simply believe him. "Give me time, all right?"

He nodded slowly, though his unhappiness was plain on his face. "I'll wait as long as you like. No true artist could create a masterwork from an uncomfortable model."

_Sweet and chivalrous. I really hit the jackpot with this one_ , she thought and then winced at the metaphor. Leviathan and her casino had no place in Sae's life with Yusuke and Makoto. "How much time until you have to be back at Kosei? Do you want me to fix you something before you go?"

"You don't have to do anything. I would hate to be a burden."

His stomach growled, and Sae glared at him. "Have you eaten anything today?" She had spent months ignoring how hungry she was, but after seeing the shack for herself, she would never shut her eyes again.

"I'm economizing." He pulled out his phone and tapped a few buttons before handing it to her. "See? I made a budget."

Sae took it. An itemized list of expenses stared back at her. _Food: 10,000/month. Supplies (incl. paints): 35,000._ "You need to spend less on art and more on feeding yourself."

He flinched. "Less? I couldn't possibly. If I don't continue getting a scholarship, then they'll throw me out. I'll never get into art school, and my career will be over before it begins. What is food compared to that?"

"The thing that keeps you alive. And scholarships are a moot point to literally starving artists." She understood him more than she wanted to. Always having second-best supplies in middle school and doing all of her own cramming for university. Even after her father had gotten that long-awaited promotion, she still had a taste for instant noodles and conveyor belt food. "You can get it down to 25,000 without a problem, I promise. And if worse comes to worst, there was a producer in America terribly interested in the whole Champion of Justice story. I bet film rights would pay for your Kosei and art school tuition three times over."

"No!" He forced his breathing to steady. "That is, I'm very grateful. But I don't wish to be dependent on you. I don't want to be with you for any reason other than loving you."

Sae kissed him. "Well then, we've simply got to get you a reasonable budget. And more income streams."

"I wouldn't even know how to begin. Madarame did everything for me. He even told me to spend my entire allowance on a lobster because I thought it would be fascinating to paint. At the time, I believed that he was preventing the material world from sullying me, but now I think that it was simply another means of control." He ran his fingers through his hair. "How do you make a budget?"

"I'll teach you." Another thing Madarame would have paid for if there was such a thing as justice. Wait. Pay. She sat up straight and snapped her fingers. "That's it. Madarame stole from you and your mother and was legally responsible for you. That makes you entitled to his money on at least three counts."

He stared at her. "But he hid all that away. Assumed names, offshore accounts..."

Sae didn't bother to hide her grin. "How fortunate for you that I do this for a living. I had him dead to rights for tax evasion as it was. It might even be fun."

His eyes grew wider still. "You would do that for me? It won't interfere with your case?"

"I can do more than one thing at a time." Sae sobered. She would give him and Makoto everything they deserved. Money, access to movers and shakers they would need to succeed in their own careers when the time came, anything they needed to thrive. All she had to do was avenge her father's murder. "I meant what I said earlier. Keep your nose clean. Kaneshiro is a very dangerous man."

"Kaneshiro? Is that who you've been hunting?"

Sae swore under her breath. She tried not to say his name outside of work both for her own peace of mind and as an extra safeguard against letting too much slip and sending Makoto on a crusade of vengeance that would only lead to more ashes in the Niijima tomb. "All you need to know is that he takes a special pleasure in enslaving high school students via blackmail. If a stranger ask you to run an errand, don't."

"No one ever asks me to run errands anyway." He took her hand to kiss her fingertips and palm. "It seems like a miracle to finally have you like this. To be free. I won't squander that."

"Good." This time she would keep him. She would face down the demons who haunted her nightmares and claim her just reward, and no Phantom Thieves or mysterious conspiracy could stop her. "For now, what do you say to a nice juicy steak?"

* * *

"Did you see that special on the news last night? The Phantom Thieves are totally making waves" Ryuji's face broke into a grin. "We just need that one really big heist to make us legendary. Maybe get some international attention. You know, Hollywood types?"

"If you don't keep your voice down, we'll be getting police attention," Akira muttered. Around him, ordinary pedestrians ignored them. Yusuke's sense of the dramatic practically screamed for a proper hideout, but he had to concede that the walkway in Shibuya did provide the luxury of hiding in plain sight.

Morgana sniffed. "As much as I hate to admit it, Ryuji does have a point. The more people who believe in us, the more of Mementos we can explore and the stronger we become. We need another target like Madarame, not creepy ex-girlfriends."

"I have a suggestion." Yusuke tried and failed to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He had slept poorly for the past few nights, turning over what Sae had told him about Kaneshiro in his mind. She had called him a blackmailer, but the SIU didn't concern itself with the mere blackmail of teenagers. And she had seemed almost paranoid. There was more here, though what he couldn't say. "What if we were to offer our assistance to law enforcement, help them catch the criminals? Taking precautions to protect our identities of course."

They stared at him, slack-jawed, and Yusuke knew that he had said the wrong thing. "Is this because of you and that prosecutor?" Ryuji asked.

"No. Yes. Not directly." Yusuke shrank into himself. This was already going all wrong. He had just wanted some way to use their powers for justice without making Sae feel like she was less of a prosecutor. They were all on the same side in the end, after all. "The police are hunting a vile man named Kaneshiro. He turns students into his personal slaves. Isn't that what we do? Take down adults who prey on teenagers?"

Akira took off his glasses and cleaned them. "But gathering evidence for the police won't help us get to the bottom of Mementos. Not to mention the possibility that the police will use it to catch us instead. If he's as bad as you say, we could just take his heart like all the others."

And then Sae would feel even worse. "But-"

"I think taking down Kaneshiro is a wonderful idea," Makoto said as she stepped out from behind the column. "The boys Kamoshida threatened with expulsion, the best friend of the girl he nearly drove to suicide, and Madarame's star pupil. I knew it, but I couldn't prove it. Yusuke, how could you?"

All his breath left him and Yusuke doubled over. His two lives were separate. Yusuke the art student and Fox the defender of justice. No need for those he loved to ever know and be put in danger by a world they wouldn't even believe in. Except that now those lives weren't separate.

"Yeah, well, you still can't prove it," Ryuji said.

"Can't I?" Makoto held up her phone. Ryuji's voice came out. "Did you see that special on television last night? The Phantom Thieves are really making waves. We just need that one really big heist to make us legendary."

Yusuke wondered if this was how Sae had felt with Madarame.

"I want to make a trade." There was a glint in Makoto's eyes that Yusuke had never seen before. "I'll delete this if you change Kaneshiro's heart like you did Kamoshida and Madarame. I'm sick of him making life miserable for students and I'm sick of doing nothing. He's been doing this for years. Years!"

"Keep it down," Ann whispered. "Years?"

Makoto flushed. "Sorry. But I heard Sis and Dad talking about a Kaneshiro when they thought I couldn't hear. Right before he died. He's been doing this for years and even they couldn't stop him."

"And now she's hunting him again, and paranoid." The world shifted sideways and Yusuke seized a column for support. The Champion of Justice had specialized in taking down yakuza. Sae had been hunting Kaneshiro right before the bombing. It had been firebombed by yakuza. The direct perpetrators had been hung, but even he knew that low-level yakuza wouldn't do that without orders. Sae was paranoid even now. "Are you saying that Kaneshiro is the man who murdered your father?"

"I don't know! They were after so many yakuza. It could have been any of them, but I can't ask her because I'm not supposed to know even that much. I want answers. But if I can't have answers, I'll settle for stopping him."

"Why not both?" Akira smiled a half-smile that made Yusuke shiver. He took out his phone and opened the Metaverse app. "Junya Kaneshiro."

"Candidate found."

"What are you doing?"

The smile grew bigger. Joker, not Akira. "Did you think we were just blackmailers? Oh no, no, no, Miss President. I'm going to show you what the Phantom Thieves can really do. You'll get your answers and then some." His brow furrowed. "Blackmailer, drug dealer, pimp. Lots of cash involved in that. I'm betting that his Palace is a bank. But where?"

"Where what? What's a Palace?"

Ann tapped her chin. "He's got even prosecutors nervous right? Like he runs all of Shibuya. I bet-"

"Match found. Beginning navigation."

_Wait what?_ But the world 's spun all the same and when it stopped, Yusuke stood in a nightmare version of Shibuya. The streetlights were simultaneously broken and cast oily lights on dirty pavement. The midafternoon sky was black as night. Every other storefront was boarded up. But it was the ATMs that filled Yusuke with horror. Hundreds upon hundreds of ATMs walking around the Metaverse where people should be.

Morgana made a disgusted noise. "He doesn't even see them as human."

Makoto yelped and jumped backwards. "Did the cat just talk? Why are you all dressed like that?"

Yusuke looked down at his thief costume. Of course. This would be a shock for anyone. He patted her on the arm and what he hoped was a comforting manner. "You get used to it," he said. "This is the Metaverse. And if the app is to be believed, this is how Kaneshiro views the prefecture of Shibuya. Our outfits are physical manifestations of what we believe rebellion against authority to look like. I have no idea why Morgana can talk."

"Because I'm human!" He sniffed. "And the one who's supposed to explain things."

Makoto furrowed her brow. "So this is a world based on belief? Metaphors become literal, that sort of thing?"

"Exactly! Finally, a smart one."

One of the ATMs stumbled and fell. The others kept walking, trampling over it—her?-as she screamed in pain. "Please, I can't pay any more! I'm broken down. Have mercy on me and let me go."

Before Yusuke could move, two Shadows wearing bank security uniforms appeared out of nowhere and scooped her up. "Then we'll sell you for scrap! Oh, you're a pretty thing. The bank president knows exactly what to do with people like you."

"I'll bet he does." Ann clenched and unclenched her fist. "I vote we take this guy down. Who's with me?"

They nodded. Yusuke's shoulders slumped. If Kaneshiro really did order that firebombing, Sae had as much right to vengeance as Makoto. It felt like the grossest kind of betrayal to take that from her. If it were true. If. How many people would suffer between now and the time she was ready to make an arrest? Didn't they have a responsibility to them as well? His head hurt. His powers were supposed to make punishing the guilty less complicated, not more. "We should at least look around the Palace. If he did hurt Sa—Niijima, we'll find out there," he said. "But I don't see a bank in this miserable place."

A shadow passed overhead as if to mock him. Yusuke looked up. It was...a bank. Floating in the sky above them like some castle from an animation. It loomed over the neighborhood, and the ATMs seemed to cower when they passed under it. Bank president? Kaneshiro thought himself a god floating above the mere mortals he oppressed.

Akira put a hand on Morgana's shoulder. "I don't suppose you have a cat-copter form?"

"Not a common cognition, sorry."

"So...we need to find some way to get him to come down or to bring us up?"

"Didn't you say that you did something similar for Madarame? Opening the door in the real world was required to open the door in his Palace?" His palms sweated under his gloves. "We'll have to confront Kaneshiro in the real world and change his cognition of us." He fought the urge to rip off his mask and run his hand over the right side of his face.

"Looks like it," Akira said, sounding no more cheered by the prospect then Yusuke. "But we won't do that here." He pulled out his phone and returned them to the real world. The ATMs became human once more, and they lost whatever power they had against a man who, speculation aside, had almost certainly murdered _someone_.

Akira adjusted his glasses. "This is the most dangerous target we've had so far. Were going to change Kaneshiro's cognition, but we have to be smart about it." He turned to Makoto. "We'll call you when we've got something. We'll take him down and find out if he killed her your dad."

"No, I'll find out." Makoto raised her head and squared her shoulders. She had never resembled her sister more. "His victims are my responsibility, and if he is the one who killed Dad...I've always been just one more thing she has to take care of. I want to do something for her."

How could anyone of honor refuse that? "I think I speak for all of us when I said that we would be honored to have you help us in whatever capacity you can."

The others drifted away in ones and twos until he and Makoto were left alone. Her brief fire left her, and she shrank into herself. Yusuke burned with the urge to call her back. You're _no mouse. Don't cower like one._ She shuddered. "I have to. You understand, right? Everything should be all on Sis. For three years, no one cared and now..." She sniffled as quiet sobs overwhelmed her, a dignified volcano.

Yusuke winced. Sae had taught him so much about how to deal with people, but paroxysms of grief still overwhelmed him. He patted Makoto on the head just as he had seen Sae do. "There there. We'll find out one way or the other. We'll help Sae take him down." She stood there for a long time, crying into his shirt and Yusuke tried not to think about the dry-cleaning bill.

"Thank you," she whispered when she could cry no more. "Can I ask you something? Why didn't you tell us about the Phantom Thieves before?"

Why indeed? He had agonized so many nights and come up with so many answers. He enjoyed the power Goemon provided and the satisfaction of bringing villains like Madarame to justice. Sae was a prosecutor and bound on principle to work against vigilantism. She resented what she thought the Phantom Thieves were. He didn't ever want to have to choose between his newfound friends and the woman he loved. But the simple truth was: "I'm afraid. Of losing her. You. All of you."

"Oh, Yusuke." She straightened. "Wait. You called her Sae, not Ms. Niijima. I knew it! I knew it, but I couldn't prove it."

The hair on Yusuke's neck stood on end. No. She couldn't suspect what he thought she suspected. "You seem to be saying that quite a bit. You couldn't prove what?"

"Don't give me that," she said with a scowl. "I may be sheltered, but I'm not blind. Sis' whole face lights up when you walk into the room. Yours does too. You're together, aren't you?"

He looked up at the sky to check for a sudden thunderstorm because there were few other ways for the day to get any worse. Kaneshiro, Makoto, murders that may or may not have happened the way she feared, it was all too much. There were only so many secrets a man could endure. Yusuke slumped in exhaustion. "If it's any consolation, this is nothing like Kamoshida. I love her very much and she loves me."

"I thought so."

Yusuke opened his mouth and closed it again. "You...thought so?"

"For three years, it's like Sis has been trapped in hell. Angry, withdrawn, working until her body gives out. She never so much as smiled. If she smelled or saw the wrong thing, it was like she was back in our old apartment. Nothing I did helped." Her eyes shone. "But when you're around, she becomes my sister again."

He thought of that day when he had held Sae as she broke down. Makoto was giving him too much credit. This wasn't some fairytale where he could kiss her and break the spell. "She's still haunted. I'm not magic. If she's more cheerful, I'm sure it's because she's engaging in her hobbies more frequently."

"No. It's you. I wanted to be the one to save her, but this matters too much for me to get hung up on my pride." She sniffled. "Don't worry. I'll keep your secret. Just take care of her."

"Yes ma'am." What else could he say? "Sae is keeping Kaneshiro from you. We're keeping the Phantom Thieves from her. And she's pretending I'm not courting her while you pretend not to know about it. We're all stuffed full of secrets."

"I know." She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. "I wish I could just ask her what happened instead of tiptoeing around it like a landmine. I wish she knew what the Phantom Thieves really were. If she knew that it was you and Takamaki who took down Madarame and Kamoshida, she would feel better."

"You think so?"

"The Champion of Justice would have."

Hope stole into Yusuke's heart. Just talk and clear the air. She would be angry at the deception, but maybe the poison that corroded them all could finally be treated. Sae loved them. She would understand. "I swore I would keep the secret...but you made no such promise."

"You really think it's that simple?"

"I hope so. I'm supposed to join you for dinner tomorrow. You can bring it up then and I'll be moral support."

"Oh thank you!" She threw her arms around him and hugged him. Yusuke brought his arms up stiffly. "Tomorrow then."

It was late when he finally left Shibuya. This was either the most foolish plan he had ever had or the most brilliant. Sae, Makoto, his friends all in the balance. Because the secrets were ripping them apart . He took a one hundred yen coin, his last, from his pocket and closed his eyes. There was no shrine here, but he hoped the spirits would understand. "Watch over us all," he whispered.


	14. Useless

Sae smiled as she went through the paperwork Madarame had sent her. It was nice to put her ability to go through financial records to a use other than catching tax cheats. Whatever the Phantom Thieves had done to Madarame had made him both cooperative and effusively apologetic, and Yusuke would soon be a very rich man. Nothing could undo thirteen years of neglect and abuse, but it would be a nice start. She would have to pull some strings in Family Court, find him a nice, sober guardian who could serve as trustee until he came of age. Maybe Kawanabe. A little pompous, but he would keep Yusuke and his assets safe while still nurturing his artistic spirit. And he owed her a favor. She'd teach Yusuke about budgeting and caring for himself as she had promised. The last thing she wanted was for him to be dependent on her and like he had no choice but to give into her attentions. She would have him as her equal or not at all.

Her phone rang. The juvenile detention facility. "Ms. Niijima?" came a timid voice. "I've changed my mind. I want to testify against Kaneshiro."

Sae gripped her phone tightly enough that her knuckles hurt. This changed everything. Kaneshiro had gone unpunished for as long as he had because his victims were more afraid of him than the law. Combined with the recording of Fujiwa's confession and the documents she already had...well it wouldn't bring her father back or even get Kaneshiro convicted of his murder, but she was so very close to finally bringing him in once and for all. To sleeping at night without dreaming of casinos. "You're certain?"

"I'm not sure of anything, but I can't...he got another girl I knew the day before yesterday. Making her work at one of his clubs. Your sister, she's the one that visited to tell me the news. Said that it would just keep happening unless somebody puts a stop to it."

"My sister did what?"

"Just what I told you: she visited me yesterday with the news. I figured you had something to do with it, but she's right. I'd rather be dead than you, but there are worse things than even that, right? I let Kamoshida rape a lot of other girls because I kept my mouth shut. I don't want any more of my friends keeping me up at night."

"Good." Sae forced her voice to stay professional even as sweat broke out on her palms. "I'll come down there as soon as I can to take your statement and arrange for protection if necessary."

"Thank you. I hope they do a better job of it than they did with you."

Sae hung up and ran her fingers through her hair. Makoto had taken it upon herself to contact one of Kaneshiro's victims and secure her cooperation. Never mind that anyone with enough pull could check the visitor logs. So much like their father that way. Like her. The cold intensified. She was being paranoid, again. The odds of this leading to further retaliation were about as much as her winning at keno.

And there were the gambling metaphors again. She had to work on something else before she went crazy.

Her intercom crackled to life. "Niijima?" said the office receptionist. "There's a Cristina Farenelli here to see you."

Sometimes Fate could be kind after all. "Show her in."

Farenelli entered with a tentative smile and bearing a manila envelope. She bowed. "Niijima. I won't take much of your time, but I talked to a friend in the Tokyo Institute for the Arts and she likes what she sees with Kitagawa's work. She wants to exhibit it as part of her their student artist program." She handed Sae the manila envelope. "One of their board members owns a soft drink company and wants to license one of his portfolio pieces for an ad campaign. I was hoping you could tell Kitagawa. The contract and such are in there."

Another thing going right today. The Institute was one of the most prestigious arts organizations in the country, and the licensing fees would ensure Yusuke could eat all he wanted until after he graduated arts school without even touching Madarame's money. "You can tell him yourself. He's coming up to my apartment later today."

"I can't, actually." She twisted a strand of hair around her finger. "I'm going back to Italy. Benjiro and I are. He asked me to marry him."

Sae inhaled. Benjiro married to a perfectly nice woman. Some people had far more luck than they deserved. "Congratulations?"

"Congratulations. I'm in love with him. " Her smile grew. "Even if he can be a bit much sometimes."

Sae laughed. "That he can. I'm going to miss you, I think."

"Thing you're okay with all this?"

Sae thought. For so long, Benjiro had been the most personal symbol of the life that had been taken from her and that she would never get back. But she had a new life now. "I am. I really am."

"And I suppose Kitagawa has nothing to do with that?" Her eyes danced with barely suppressed laughter. "Don't look so shocked. It was obvious from the first time I saw you with him. I mean really, taking a student as you date? Don't worry. I won't say a word. It's not the first time something like this has happened, and it won't be the last."

"Thank you." Sae swallowed. They weren't quite friends, but she would miss Farenelli and her unexpected kindnesses. "Can I ask you something? You went out of your way to help me twice. Why?"

"You wouldn't believe it was simple human decency?"

"I'm a prosecutor. Very few people are decent, and nothing is ever simple."

"True enough." She took a deep breath. "Four years ago, I was finishing up at university and doing my last year here in Tokyo. A man slipped something into my bag when I wasn't looking. Cocaine. I was mortified and terrified. And another man wearing gold chains said that meant that I belonged to them. Your drug laws are very strict, and I would never be believed. They could think of a lot of uses for a European who spoke Japanese. But before they could make me do anything, they were arrested. I flushed the cocaine down the toilet and went back to my life." She looked at Sae. "Care to guess the prosecutor responsible?"

Sae blinked and turned away. Something she had done had mattered and lasted instead of being swallowed up by the fire and the fame of the Detective Prince or the Phantom Thieves. "I'm honored that I could help."

"So you see, I was only paying you back." She smiled again. "Give me a call some time and feel free to stop by if you're ever in Italy. There are some galleries I'm sure you and Kitagawa would love."

"I'll do that."

The high carried her through lunch, but even euphoria had to contend with physical reality. The pain in her leg chipped bit by bit at her awareness until it was overpowering. She sighed. It was too much to ask that the day be entirely perfect and she be able to go without her painkillers. Ah well. She almost had Kaneshiro in her grasp and Yusuke was about to have everything he could ever want. Leviathan would have no purchase in her mind tonight.

She hobbled to the water cooler where a couple of the younger prosecutors were deep in conversation. "The boss is way too worried about these Phantom Thieves if you ask me. If the Minister didn't hamstring us with all these rules and regulations, we could have taken down half their targets ourselves. About time somebody took down the bad guys instead of filling out forms."

"You're just saying that because your sister has seen her hours double since the store started selling their merchandise."

"Well it doesn't hurt. But I'm telling you, they're the new Champions of Justice…Oh, hi, Niijima."

Sae managed a tight smile. It didn't matter what the world thought of the Phantom Thieves. She was the one who was going to bring justice for her father and for Makoto's friends. "Word of advice: don't go praising the vigilantes in the middle of the prosecutor's office unless you want your sister to be your sole source of income." The look on their faces was worth their irritation, and Sae went back to her office smugly pleased with herself.

Her door was ajar. Sae took her medication and frowned. That was strange. She was certain that she had closed it on her way out. Maybe Farenelli had forgotten something. She opened the door, and the world simply stopped. There on her desk was her old investigation notebook, charred but still recognizable. It had been opened to a relatively undamaged, empty page. She pinched herself. Nothing changed. She hobbled forward and read.

_I thought it only fair to get this back to you. It was a fine trophy, but I don't need it anymore. I really thought you had learned your lesson, but here you are bringing the whole family in on the act. I think I'll hire your sister, make use of her personally. Much better than a journal, don't you agree? I'll see you soon._

The note was unsigned, but that didn't matter. Sae knew his handwriting better than her own.

The world spun round and didn't stop. Acrid smoke filled her nostrils, and her father's remains sat at her desk. _No. No. No. I'll do anything you want. Just don't take the only family I have left._ The corpse didn't move. Flames licked her legs and face. She was going to die here and Makoto was going to go to an orphanage and please someone save her. It hurt so much...

"Sae!" said a voice as something gripped her by the arms.

Sae flailed uselessly, but whatever it was only held her tighter. Weak. She had always been weak.

"Hush, hush," said the same voice. "Take it easy. You're safe here."

Reality reasserted itself by degrees: thick carpet beneath her, the hum of an air conditioner, the grip propping her into a sitting position. "You're safe here," Akechi repeated.

Sae shivered, too exhausted to do anything but let herself be held. "Akechi?"

"I heard a crash. You collapsed." He handed her cane back to her. "Can you stand?"

"Maybe. If you help." She let him pull her to her feet, but her leg gave out and she threatened to fall again. He dragged her to her chair and sat her down. Some part of her was aware that she should be humiliated-she hadn't collapsed in almost two years-but her mind remained a numb prison.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" he asked. Sae wasn't sure she could answer him if she wanted to. The emotions had been submerged in ice, and she had no power or desire to call them back.

He frowned and noticed the open notebook. "Does it have anything to do with this?" He read, slowly, his frown deepening as he did so. "That monster!" he whispered. "This cannot stand. We need to get you home."

The words penetrated her fog. Home. She couldn't go home when there was so much to do. People would talk or worse. And home was no safer. "My director-"

"Will find himself very short of a Detective Prince if he says so much as a word," he said with a steel that she had never heard before. "Did you take your car or your bike to work today?"

"Car."

"Excellent. I always did want to drive a Clexus."

"Drive? Since when do you drive?"

"Oh, about a week ago. Regrettably, there's no time to apply the shoshinsha mark." And before Sae could say anything else, he was lifting her up, taking most of her weight on to him so that her leg didn't have to bear it. He was surprisingly strong for his size, and they made decent time to the lobby and the parking garage, passing a gaggle of staring prosecutors in their wake. Well, if Kaneshiro didn't kill her, this would spark no end of office gossip.

Traffic was even worse than usual. The numbness gradually faded, leaving only the pain in her leg and a heart-hammering panic that would make the haze of pain killers and a visit from her worse half a relief by comparison. "He's going to kill Makoto," she whispered, her mouth dry. "Or rape her, or something worse."

"Not if there's any justice in this world," he said with the same steel. "He can't evade punishment forever, no matter what connections he has." His voice turned to acid. "He may just find that those connections consider him more trouble than he's worth and will leave him to his fate."

"That's a nice fairytale."

"Oh, Sae, it's no fairytale. Justice can and must prevail. You and Makoto have suffered enough as it is. He will be taken down, by you or by someone."

There was a foul taste in her mouth. "Justice? You're as bad as Makoto. There is no justice. Only powerful people crushing those below. They rigged the game before you and I ever got started." Leviathan had been right after all. Nothing, not even love, could change the world. "It's a casino. Not just the courthouses. The whole world is rigged against people like us. Cash out now."

Akechi paled, even as he kept his hands at ten and two o'clock. "World? They can be that big?" he murmured.

"What are you going on about?"

"Nothing of significance. Sae, have you considered talking to a psychiatrist?"

A psychiatrist? Was that what she had come to? Psychiatrists were for expert testimony, but to seek one out was to admit not only that Kaneshiro had broken her mind as well as her body, but that she couldn't be put back together. The stigma would follow her all the rest of her life: the prosecutor too insane to prosecute. If she even lived long enough for that to matter. "So you think I'm weak, too? The Champion of Justice reduced to cackling in the loony bin."

"Don't say such things. I don't think you're weak. I think you're wounded. I think you're going to survive and that Kaneshiro is going to hang for what he did to you and your father. I think that, when he does, that you deserve to heal. I think you and Makoto and Kitagawa deserve a chance to be happy. Or do you think they would want you to be in pain?"

Makoto and Yusuke. Her memories had driven out the things that she still had to hold on to. "Kaneshiro can't win." She would take Makoto aside in private after dinner and explain that she was going to end up dead if she kept this up. As long as she could keep her family safe and prosperous, nothing else mattered. As long as she could keep going and keep the taint of her fragility away from their futures, she would.

_You truly think that will be enough?_

"As long as you thrive, he won't win. You're so much stronger than you think you are." He fell silent for a long moment. "Stronger than I am. You, for all your suffering, haven't been anything less than yourself. I haven't been myself for years."

Sae raised an eyebrow in question.

"You do realize that the Detective Prince is nothing more than a construct, don't you? My wardrobe, my manner of speaking, my grades, all carefully calibrated to create a particular effect." His voice changed, his accent becoming the rough one normally used by delinquents. "No one would ever let the bastard from the gutter into a good cram school, let alone help with cases. I did what I needed to do to get out. Spent so many nights watching your old tapes to get my TV manner right."

"Mine?"

"Just another way that the Champion of Justice lives on. But when I started to work with your office, I found that I preferred Sae Niijima."

Words failed her yet again, but it seemed vitally important to try. "You're a good man, Akechi. Not the Detective Prince. You."

He blinked as if to hold back tears. "You wouldn't say that if you knew some things about my past, but thank you all the same. Oh, look. We're here."

They stumbled through her apartment with what was probably the minimum of pain, but Sae's leg was still screaming by the time he tucked her in bed as if she were the child and he were the adult. "Let your painkillers kick in and try to get some rest. And think about what I said regarding the psychiatrist."

"I will." She would think all right. But all the thinking in the world wouldn't change that she was either going to lose so much that no doctor on Earth could help her or she couldn't afford the baggage that would come with diagnosis.

After being reassured a few more times that she would in fact take care of herself, Akechi finally left. Sae pulled the covers around herself and hoped. Her dreams were full of the sounds of slot machines. Of Farenelli and Madarame and volleyball players. All the good she had done and failed to do as a prosecutor. And always Leviathan, watching with a slight smile on her face. Makoto and Yusuke stood at her side, bruised and bloodied. This place would break them if they weren't protected. She turned to find her father's corpse. As if she needed more reminders of what would happen to them if she couldn't protect them.

"Sis?" Makoto's voice stirred her to wakefulness. "Are you home early?" She opened the door and revealed Yusuke following close behind her. They paled as they saw Sae's swathed in blankets. "What happened to you?"

"I fell. Akechi brought me home. I'll be fine soon." That had to be the whole truth. "You'll have to settle for a frozen dinner, though."

"I don't mind helping you cook," Yusuke said. "I should get better at it. The food in the dorms is quite dreadful."

"No, no." Her smile felt tight and pasted on. "You should take it easy today of all days. This is a celebratory frozen dinner." She threw back the covers and sat up. Her leg ached, but it was a distant thing, and she could put one foot in front of the other despite the haze in her brain. "You're going to be a very rich man."

That was enough to make them startle. Sae continued as she hobbled forward towards the dining area. "Rich beyond the dreams of avarice. So don't worry about my aches and pains."

They followed behind her, still silent and disbelieving. Sae felt as if she were being carried forward by some invisible force. They would be safe. Prosperous. Happy. Above all, normal. No matter what she had to do.

Yusuke took a seat at the other end of the table, and Makoto pulled her chair out for her before taking the seat next to him. "Sis, are you sure you're okay? Your eyes look a little glassy."

"Of course, I'm okay. Just overexerted myself." She smiled wider. "If there's anyone to worry about, it's you. Standing there all quiet and guilty looking. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're hiding something."

She and Yusuke looked at each other, and Yusuke gave her a small nod. "I do have a question, if you're sure you're up to it."

"Go ahead."

"There's been so much talk about the Phantom Thieves. You say they're vigilantes but…" She looked at her lap. "Could they be right? Bringing bad people to account? Like you and Dad used to do?"

The icy numbness the painkillers had swallowed her in dissipated like dew when faced with the unforgiving sun as images cascaded over her mind. Makoto with bags upon bags of white powder. Warehoused ten to a room with other frightened girls. Bruised, bloodied, whimpering in the corner as Kaneshiro laughed at his handiwork. All because she was a silly little girl who still believed in fairytale heroes. That ended now.

"Like Dad and I used to do? Dad is dead! And I'm this!" She leaned over the table, forcing Makoto to meet her eyes. Her voice rose higher and higher, but it didn't matter. "Look at what happens to people who try to be heroes. Look! But no, you want to run out and get yourself killed because you idolize a bunch of criminals. I've been doing my best to keep you happy for the last three years, but all you've been is a cancer eating away at me."

Silence. Worse than silence. A great yawning void opened up beneath her. What had she just said? Makoto had lost all her color. Her lips were trembling. Yusuke's mouth hung open in naked disbelief. Sae clapped her hands over her own mouth. What had she just said? What had she just said? Laughter rang in her ears. Not Kaneshiro's. Hers. Leviathan's.

_I told you. I told you she was useless._

Sae reached out, helplessly. "No, wait, I didn't mean-"

Yusuke laughed, a bitter sound that was like an icy knife. "Enough. I spent my whole life enduring the abuse of a man who swore he never meant to hurt me. Makoto deserves better." He shook his head. "I was wrong. You are hideous." He stood and drew an unresisting Makoto up and out the door. Sae could only watch them go as Leviathan's laughter filled the room until there was nothing else left.

_I am thou. Thou art I. Just you and me now. Forever._


	15. Baiting the Trap

Dramatic exits were so much easier in stories. Yusuke had meant only to get Makoto away from what Sae had revealed herself to be, but now they sat in a café in the shabbier part of Shibuya, and he didn't have money for both the coffee and the train fare to the dorm. Let alone a plan for where exactly he intended to take Makoto after his impromptu rescue. He buried his face in his hands. Another idiocy in a life that had been full of them.

Makoto looked no better than he felt. She had barely said a word since he had led her from the apartment, and her gaze seemed perpetually just beyond him. He wished, perversely, that she would cry because he had trained himself how to respond to tears, and he had a handkerchief. But she sat there as if Sae had stolen all the life from her. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he tried at last.

That must have been the wrong thing to say. Makoto didn't so much cry as erupt. Sobs wracked her body, loud enough that several passersby stopped to stare. "Sis," she said between cries. "How could she?"

How could she, indeed? The question drove him and haunted him in equal measure. He had thought, for the first time, that he truly understood another human being. Sae was gruff and in more physical and mental pain than he cared to think about, but she was kind. He'd loved her. That...thing in the apartment had seemed less a human than a writhing, seething mass of hatred. And then she had tried to brush her words off as not meaning them. How could you not mean words that cut so deeply? "Because she's just the same as every other corrupt adult, wounding others because she can. She is no better than Madarame."

Makoto blinked back tears. "No! She's not like that. Something must have happened. She's a good person. She never would have done this before the fire."

"And Madarame never would have killed my mother and drove his apprentices to suicide. We can't make excuses." That was the only way to avoid being a victim again and again.

She didn't seem to hear him. "I'm not a cancer am I? I can help you and the others catch Kaneshiro?"

"Your moral support will be invaluable. We'll have to do the actual legwork. It's not safe for someone without a Persona to be involved."

Makoto recoiled as if she had been struck. "So Sis is right. I'm completely useless."

Anxiety washed over him. He was handling this all wrong. Madarame and Sae had been so much better at this sort of thing. And they had been false. "Just in this one particular matter. No wait, that's not right either. I'm going to call Akira. He knows how to talk to people, and he and Boss can find you somewhere safe to stay." He whipped out his phone.

An iron grip encircled his wrist. "Stop that. I'm going back home. I thought you loved Sis. But you're turning on her over one thing."

"I'm trying to prevent you from enduring the same pain that I suffered for years. There's something dark in your sister that I didn't see until today."

"Or maybe…" Her voice was ice. "Maybe there's something in you. Maybe Madarame broke something in you, and you're seeing demons everywhere." Her mouth snapped shut. "Or maybe viciousness runs in the family. I'm sorry."

Yusuke tried to form words and couldn't. Maybe he was broken. By Madarame, by whatever starcrossed wiring in his brain that meant so much of humanity was a mystery to him. And unlike those he battled, he had no Treasure that his friends could steal to allow him to rejoin the rest of the world. He was doomed to walk among the deviants. "So what do you want to do?"

She raked a hand through her hair. "I want to bring my sister back. Save her. It's like she was poisoned when Dad died. I thought you could fix her, but you can't. And Kaneshiro or whoever the _hell_ killed him is out there laughing, and I just have to sit there and take it." She wiped her eyes, and when she looked at Yusuke again, she was all steel and fire. "What do I want? I want Kaneshiro's head on a platter. Tonight. Excuse me."

She was on her feet and dodging through narrow alleys before Yusuke realized what was happening. He swallowed a curse and followed her. Whatever he thought of Sae, Makoto was his responsibility at the moment. The neighborhood grew even shabbier as they went on: storefronts boarded up, neon signs burnt out, the people thinner and more careworn. Well, some of the people. Men in gaudy suits loitered near massage parlors or hostess clubs, their collars pulled high so that nothing beyond their face and hands showed. Yusuke's blood ran cold. So this was the yakuza in the flesh. And given how territorial organized crime tended to be, they could only serve one man.

Makoto strode to the nearest pair as if they worked for her instead. "Take me to Kaneshiro," she said.

Yusuke was no longer certain of his own sanity, but he knew in that moment that Makoto had lost her mind. "What?" he said, but they were too far away to hear him.

The older of the two laughed. "Kid's lost her mind. Who even told you that name, and what makes you think a couple of legitimate businessmen like us would even know where to find him?"

"She's pretty, though. I bet we could find a job for you if that's what you're looking for." He peered closer at her and stepped back. "Shit! Look at those eyes! The kid's a Niijima."

"That's right. Makoto Niijima. I think you know my father and sister. Now take me to Kaneshiro."

If wolves could take human form, they would have been identical to those two men. They shared a look. "Sure, we'll take you to Kaneshiro. Just step into this limo and we'll take you to the boss, Miss Niijima."

Makoto caught his gaze. There was triumph in her eyes. She flashed him a quick victory sign before she disappeared into the darkness of the limo. Anxiety became sheer, blind panic. Makoto had lost her mind and she was going to be raped, killed or both, and it was all his fault. There was no time to call for help, nothing he could do except share whatever fate he had brought upon her. He took off after the car.

Traffic was clogged to a snail's pace that meant even he could keep his target in sight. Plenty of time to berate himself. He was a fool. For endangering Makoto, for loving Sae, for thinking things would be as simple as telling her the truth.

_It's worse than that, my boy_ , said Madarame within him. _You loved me for so long. Part of you loves me still because no court-appointed guardian will ever be a father to you. You love Sae. And who else but someone defective and distorted could love those as dark as we? That's my curse upon you: that you will only love monsters. Now, go atone, if you can._

They came to the seediest hostess club Yusuke could have imagined. What should have been teased and hinted at was offered as base commerce in the windows. He blanched. One of the girls advertised was a Kosei student. He made a fist. If he somehow survived tonight, he would take Kaneshiro's heart if he had to do it on his own.

The two yakuza hauled Makoto from the limo. She was pale but unharmed. They marched her to a side entrance and executed a complex series of knocks before the door swung open. Now or never. Yusuke slipped in behind them.

The room they were in was an office, if the office had been decorated by some deranged daimyo. Dim neon light bathed a low couch in purple light. Scantily clad women, too frightened to be beautiful, huddled at various points for the benefit of the man who reclined on that couch. His tailored suit was of fine material, but a ghastly blue and purple that did nothing to hide his immense girth. Gold chains adorned his neck. But mere aesthetic displeasure couldn't explain the clawing in Yusuke's gut. He thought he knew what ugliness was, but looking and those dull eyes and cruel twist of the lips, he understood that he had been mistaken.

"Well, well, well." His voice was flat. "The Champion's sister and her tagalong artist stumbling into my hideout. That calls for some celebration." His gaze flickered to the two had brought Makoto. "It's almost enough to make me not want to kill you."

Makoto rounded, her eyes wide. "Yusuke! What are you doing here? You weren't supposed to get involved."

Kaneshiro's laugh was like the grinding of rusty gears. "Planning to show up and lecture me into being a good boy? You didn't think this through, did you kids? Good thing for you that I'm in a good mood. I'm going to send you right back to your families. Such as they are."

"You are?"

"Of course I am. What did you think I was going to do? Mail your severed heads to Niijima? Getting every cop in the TMPD on my ass is bad for business. Of course, there's one small matter..." His lips curved into a smile as he took out his phone with one hand and withdrew a bag of small, white powder with the other. "A picture of the famed Sae Niijima's sister using cocaine? The scandal!"

He took the picture. Makoto made a fist. "You...you jerk!"

"Ha. You can't even swear right. You and your sister are going to be ruined when this gets out. Begging on street corners. Unless you give me some consideration. Say...three million each. You too, art boy."

This was Makoto's grand plan? Getting them ruined beyond repair and destroying Sae? Yusuke closed his eyes. He might deserve whatever punishment Fate chose, but not Makoto. Not even the person Sae truly was deserved such utter destruction. "You know students don't have such funds. I will do whatever you please if delete the photo and never bother the Niijimas again."

"Yusuke!"

"Tempting as that is, I'll let you sweat a bit." His voice dropped to a whisper. "No one feels sorry for kids who get mixed up with drugs. Especially cop kids. I can make you do anything I want. Anything. They might rescue you eventually, but you'll always be the screw-up who deserved what she got. And thus ends the Niijimas." He made a jerking motion with his hand. "Get them out of here!"

Later, Yusuke stood on the street shivering. Kaneshiro had the noose around their necks, and he could feel it tightening already. "I—there has to be some way to fix this. Sae spoke as if I was about to become wealthy. Perhaps the sum will be enough to placate Kaneshiro."

"You're not spending a single yen." She broke into a smile. "He played right into our hands. Call the others."

"What good would that do? I admit that a firm deadline does wonders to concentrate the mind, but we still have no way into the bank."

"Don't we?"

The others trooped in half an hour later, looking as annoyed and confused as he felt. Makoto, though, just kept smiling. "Thank you all for coming so late. I found a way into the bank. You're going to need me and Fox, though."

"What's Little Miss Perfect been up to now?" Ryuji muttered. You don't even have a Persona! You're use—"

"I did more than you. Take me to the bank, and I'll show you."

Yusuke took out his phone. Clearly, there was only one end to tonight's madness. "Junya Kaneshiro. Yakuza. Shibuya. Bank."

The Metaverse had changed since yesterday. The bank had settled to earth, dominating an entire block. Yusuke rubbed his eyes as best he could with the mask. The view didn't change. "How?"

"You said that this world depended on Kaneshiro's cognition. Shibuya is his personal bank. And a bank's customers are always welcome. I just needed to become a customer." She sobered. "You were never supposed to get involved, Fox. I'm sorry."

Yusuke's knees went wobbly. She had planned to get blackmailed the entire time? "Do you have any idea how many ways this could have gone wrong? You could had been killed, and then what?"

"I would be with my father. There wasn't time for a better plan. Kaneshiro needs to be dealt with now. And I'm not a cancer." Her eyes were hard as she strode towards the bank. "Now come on. I'm going to find out who broke Sis. No matter what I have to do."


	16. Masters of the Palace

"Sorry, Niijima. There's no sign of her. I'll tell the boys at the precinct to keep an eye out."

"Thanks." Her cell phone felt loose in her hands. "Keep it discreet, would you? I don't want Makoto to get in any trouble because she's young."

"God it." The officer chuckled slightly. "Kids these days, am I right? You should see my youngest. Wants to be a Phantom Thief when she grows up."

The Phantom Thieves again. But this time, Sae could muster only nausea. It wasn't The Phantom Thieves who had driven Makoto and Yusuke away. "Just let me know the second you hear anything."

She buried her face in her hands. What had she done? And it had been her: her thoughts, her fury and terror, her mouth spewing out venom. There was no blaming this on some dream demon that whispered in her ear. But it was Makoto who would pay the price. The clean façade Tokyo presented was nothing but an illusion, and a hundred horrible things could happen to her before nightfall without Kaneshiro targeting her. To say nothing of Yusuke.

A strangled sound tore from her throat. Yusuke. He had looked at her with such contempt as he left. Yusuke, who had always been so kind and held her when she cried, despised her for her cruelty. If the Phantom Thieves had left anything of the real Madarame, he would be beside himself with laughter. She had carried out his revenge for him. And now she had lost everything that mattered.

_Oh, don't be like that. The girl was always a parasite. If you wanted to be a mother, you would have gotten yourself knocked up like all your college friends instead of going to law school._

"Shut up!" She never should have listened to the demon in her head. All she had wanted was a little strength to keep going in the face of Madarame and Kaneshiro. Not for hatred to take over when she didn't even need it anymore.

_Everything comes with a price. There's no getting rid of me now. I'll go to sleep with you and wake up with you. I'll be your every thought. Makoto and Yusuke won't matter anymore. You'll be the most successful lawyer Japan has ever seen. None of this justice business._

She had wanted to be a successful lawyer and continue having the best. She looked around. Well, she had it. Italian leather couch, art by some of the best painters Japan had ever seen. And a horrible, never-ending silence. What good were these luxuries when she had driven her last remaining family away, perhaps for good? _The wrong Niijima died in that fire._

Her gaze fell on the manila envelope, and she choked back a sob. In all the tumult, she had forgotten to give Yusuke his contract. She took it out. It had been a long time since she had taken Contracts, but reviewing it would give her something to do. A last, glimmering good deed before Kaneshiro claimed her.

_Why are you even bothering? The kid doesn't matter. Sure we've lost our looks but there are plenty of pretty young guys who will be happy to help us forget. You'll never be a good person again. You'll never escape me. I am thou, thou art I. I am thou, thou art I. I am..._

Sae covered her ears, but the voice in her head wouldn't stop. This was what she was: a monster who called her own sister a cancer. She had unleashed her darker self for some transient power and gotten nothing in return. But there was a way to not think. In her younger years, she and Benjiro had been quite the libertines. She had forgotten more than one night in a haze of alcohol. She wasn't supposed to mix it with her pain medication, but what did it matter anymore? And there was one last bottle of Armagnac...

She limped to her bedroom. The Armagnac was in the drawer she had left it. _We'll crack this open when Kaneshiro is dead._ So much for that. She uncorked the bottle and drank directly, like a savage. Well, if this was her true self, there was no point in pretending to be civilized. "Cheers, Dad. I'm sorry I screwed up."

The alcohol burned going down her throat. Funny, it didn't taste nearly as good as she had imagined. She sat on the bed and waited. For death, for the mindless pleasure of being drunk, for being anything other than the broken hero who had failed and driven away the only people she loved. The burning grew as a terrible nausea seized her stomach and a pain worse than the fire spread out until it choked out breath and light and sense. The room spun around as slot machines clanged in the distance.

A shadow loomed over Sae. Leviathan clicked its tongue. "Now, now it's not that easy to escape the house. There are debts to be repaid."

Sae looked around. She lay on the floor of the casino in the middle of the giant roulette wheel. She turned her head and shuts her eyes. No. There had to be some place, some way in this cursed world to find peace.

"No peace. Not as long as you keep denying what we are. But since you insist on punishing yourself…"

She snapped her fingers, and her dad's corpse appeared. What remained of his mouth pulled back in a snarl. "Such a disappointment. You can't avenge me, and you're going to get Makoto killed. She was always my favorite…"

Another finger snap. Makoto appeared, her face bruised and her school uniform torn. "Watch! Watch as I lose everything in here. I liked you better when you were just might cool big sister. But you're too weak to protect me".

_Snap._ Yusuke stood over her. "You're no better than Madarame. I was a fool to love you."

"I can make it stop," said the Leviathan. "You can make it stop. You thought you could just let me in when you needed me to make yourself strong. And I am strong. I don't feel pity or remorse or guilt. You will never feel the pain of losing them again. But I need the Champion of Justice to die. It shouldn't be much of a hardship. You're three quarters of the way to suicide already."

Sae went limp. It seemed such an easy thing. Acknowledge the truth and complete the transition into what she already was. And yet and yet… "Then let me die. If there's anything of the Champion left in me, that's how I want to go out."

A scream filled the air and the walls of the casino shook. "Why. Won't. You. Give. Up? You want to play that game? Fine. We'll beat you fair and square." Her lips curved into a smile as she turned to the constructs that were and were not her family. "Let's remind my other self of her limits. Dad, you can start."

* * *

Yusuke wasn't sure what depravity he had expected from the depths of Kaneshiro's heart, but this wasn't it. The bank was just like every other bank he'd ever been in: marble floors, high counters, slightly stuffy. Even the cognitions had been restored to human form as they stood in a line that stretched halfway out the door. Yusuke kept a hand on the hilt of his katana. It had been his suggestion that had led to the disasters that had cascaded to them been here tonight, and if anything happened to Makoto, he would never forgive himself.

Her eyes flashed as she strode to the nearest counter. She didn't seem to care that she lacked a Persona. The crowd of cognitions parted before her as she approached the nearest shadowy teller. "I want to see the...bank president." Her tone was polite as far as Yusuke could tell, but polite in the same way Sae's had been when she spoke to Benjiro.

"You can't see him without an appointment."

She looked at Akira, who shrugged, before turning back to the teller. "And how do I get an appointment?"

"Mr. Kaneshiro is a very b-"

"Oh, I always make time for my preferred customers." The voice had a similar timbre to the real Kaneshiro, but was smoother, more cultured. Yusuke turned. The Shadow stood flanked by a small army of lesser demons dressed as security who were busy herding the terrified cognitions. Kaneshiro himself wore an immaculate business suit that looked expensive. His hair was well-coiffed, and he sported a pencil mustache. Really, if it hadn't been for the purple skin and yellow eyes, he would have been quite a bit more romantically successful than his human counterpart.

"Did you come to give up already?" he continued. "I was looking forward to dragging this loan out."

"I came for information." Makoto all but spat out the words. "Are you the one who blow up our apartment? Did you kill my father?"

Kaneshiro started before narrowing his eyes. "Revenge? How quaint. Yes, I did give the order to blow your precious family to pieces. The police officers, the prosecutors, they know to let me run my business. But the Niijimas were like dogs with a bone. Especially the woman. I think she was starting to believe her own press. So I removed the obstacles to growth in the most efficient manner possible."

Tears formed at the corner of Makoto's eyes. "You killed Dad because he was in the way."

So there it was then: the true author of Detective Niijima's murder and Sae's disability unmasked. Yusuke grit his teeth. It didn't change anything. It couldn't. Sae had suspected that before. It didn't excuse the vile things she had said. Madarame had had his reasons too.

"Can you think of a better reason to kill someone? I left your precious sister alive. I thought nearly getting killed would make her put her head down and go corporate if she didn't just decide to finish the job for me." His lips twisted into a snarl. "But the bitch just keeps coming. So this time, this time I'm going to have some fun finishing the job. I didn't start with you, and it ends with what's left of your sister as ashes in the family tomb, but I think forcing you into prostitution will be my favorite part. It's always the innocents who are the most fun to break. "

"I won't let you break-" Makoto stopped, thinking. "Wait. What do you mean that you didn't start it with me?"

Kaneshiro's laughter filled the room until the walls shook. "Your sister didn't tell you? I pulled some strings to have her lost property returned. Namely, her investigation notebook. Of course, it was a little worse for wear with all that charring, and I had to add a note explaining what I was going to do to you if she didn't back off. But you made the mistake of annoying me, so now I'm going to do it regardless."

Yusuke froze. He had sent Sae her old investigation notebook? The mere mention of yakuza had forced her to relive her trauma. Threatening Makoto with the notebook would have been infinitely worse, and yet she had given no sign. The only thing unusual was...was that she had come home looking like death warmed over before she had exploded. Breathing was suddenly difficult. "Was this today, by chance?"

"It was. I do wish I could have seen the look on Niijima's face. I'm told that reminders of trauma trap the victim in a loop. A hell, if you will. I want her well and truly cracked before I kill her."

Oh no. Oh no. It was madness and not malice that had put those words in Sae's mouth. Or something like madness. He liked it better when she was a bad person and he had horrible taste in women. It was so much simpler. At least he knew what to do with Kaneshiro. "The Phantom Thieves are coming for you, Kaneshiro."

Makoto clenched both her fists. The tears that had threatened glistened in her eyes like gemstones. "Sis...You're going to pay you dirty, moneygrubbing son of a bitch!"

Tremors seized her as a metal mask appeared over her face. What? No. But Makoto brought her hands to it without her balance faltering as Yusuke's had done. "Yes," she said calmly, coldly. "Come to me, Johanna. No more holding back."

Blue fire burned so hot and so bright that Yusuke could do nothing but close his eyes and turn away. When he could look again, Makoto stood transformed. Her idea of rebellion was armored biker gear with shoulder pads and an impressive scarf. Beside her was a motorcycle with a woman's face that glowed with the same power as Goemon. A lump formed in his throat. A motorcycle. Of course it had to be a motorcycle.

Makoto hopped atop it. "So this is what happens when I stop playing nice." She turned a corner that would have been too sharp for even Sae's bike and made straight for Kaneshiro. Fire blossomed in all directions and the room shook again. "I'm going to end you!"

Kaneshiro did the sensible thing and ran for the door as fast as his legs would carry him. His subordinates were not so fortunate. The fire didn't so much incinerate as evaporate them. One moment, they were there and the next, there was only black ooze and a crowd of terrified cognitions.

Makoto fell to her knees as the motorbike transformed back into her mask. Yusuke's mouth was dry. Too much had happened today and left him with too much to think about, and he could only see the next step on the path. "Let's get you out of here."

A few minutes later, they found themselves in the same café, this time surrounded by the entire Phantom Thieves. Makoto, shivering, leaned heavily into Ann. "That—I knew in my head that he was a monster, but hearing the way he talked about Sis... I think I'm going to be sick."

"Please don't," Ryuji said, looking ill himself. "But I getcha. He's gotta be the scummiest guy that we've ever taken down."

"You can take him down, right? You can do to him what you did to Kamoshida and Madarame?"

"You better believe we can." Akira's eyes flashed behind his glasses, and there was still more than a little of Joker in the way he spoke. He turned to Morgana. "You wanted us to be more well-known so that we could explore Mementos? There's nothing quite like taking down a yakuza to put us on the map.

A knot settled in Yusuke's stomach. Sae had spoken as if she was close to apprehending Kaneshiro through legal means. And she had been wounded by the Phantom Thieves defeating Madarame and Kamoshida before she could. What would being denied revenge against the man who had committed unspeakable crimes against her and her family do to her psyche?

He made a fist. It shouldn't matter. He didn't want it to matter. Yes, what Sae had suffered would drive anyone to madness. Kaneshiro had taunted her this very day. But she had still called her own sister a cancer. No past tragedy or present fear could absolve her of that. Could it? The thoughts must have been lurking somewhere in her mind before trauma had forced them out. Perhaps. He wished things could be as simple as bad people having Palaces and good people having Personas.

"Your sister is close to an arrest, I believe." Let him be a coward and give the decision to someone with more right to make it. "There are those who would say that you both have the right to vengeance. How do you wish us to proceed?"

"I don't know." Makoto seemed suddenly older and even more tired. "I've finally got the power to fight back, and I want to use it. I want that man's neck to snap for what he did to us. But everything Sis has been through in the last three years... She was more than the Champion of Justice. She was kind. And now she's sick. I want to heal her."

Ann sucked in a breath. "We're Thieves, not doctors. And Kaneshiro's after you guys. We've got to deal with him one way or an-"

Akira's phone chimed with a new text message. His face turned ashen as he read. "I think you and Makoto need to see this." He handed the phone to Yusuke. The sender was a stream of seemingly random characters Yusuke didn't recognize but the message chain made his blood run cold.

_I know who you are, Phantom. I know what you can do. I request a change of heart. Sae Niijima. Her keywords are world and casino. Hurry. I fear she may harm herself, and I lack the power to intervene._

Yusuke tried to speak and couldn't. A Palace? He knew there was a darkness in Sae that he hadn't been able to guess, but Palaces were reserved for corrupt monsters who exploited others without conscience. "She isn't that evil, surely."

"Of course Sis isn't evil!" Makoto snapped. "I told you. She's sick."

"Um, guys? Maybe we should be a little more worried about the fact that someone is on to Joker, which means they could be on to the rest of us."

Akira took back his phone and pressed a few buttons. "Well, whoever it is seems to have deleted their account in the time it took us to talk. Looks like he just wanted to tell us about Niijima. But someone knowing about us is plenty scary enough on its own."

"Could it be the guy Madarame was talking about? Ryuji asked. "The one using Palaces to do whatever he wanted?"

"Then why would he need us?" Akira asked. "Whoever it is knew all about distorted desires. But I still have no clue who that would be. The only lead we would have is to put Niijima and her keywords into the Navigator and see what happened. And we have enough on her plate with Kaneshiro."

"Would you stop talking about my sister like she's just another of your targets?" Fire as brilliant and destructive as that she had unleashed in the bank burned in Makoto's eyes. "She isn't a monster. And she doesn't have a Palace."

"You don't have to be evil to have a Palace." Morgana's voice was quiet, gentle. "A Palace means that your desires are distorted. That means evil for a lot of people, but it can also mean that your thinking is...off-kilter. I think you call it mental illness. Niijima can have a Palace and hurt people she cares about without any of the malice we've seen before. Or she has a whole secret life you know nothing about. Akira's right that the only way to know would be to look."

Yusuke sighed. So much for the Metaverse making his moral calculations simpler. "I wish I could simply ask her. I don't know that I would have the strength to see the ugliness of two people that I loved so dearly." He swallowed. "That I love so dearly."

"We can ask," Makoto whispered. She squared her shoulders. "I don't know about our mystery person, but I think that I need to go home and face Sis one way or the other." She turned to Yusuke. "Will you come with me?"

His courage had already been tested a hundred ways in the last few hours. One more would do no harm. "Of course."

They borrowed some money from Akira and rode back to the apartment in silence. Yusuke tried to calm his hammering heart. He would know if Sae was a damaged woman in need of help and lashing out or merely another Madarame. He would know exactly how big a fool he was and begin to rebuild his life. There wasn't as much comfort in that as there should have been.

The apartment door was unlocked and the sitting room deserted. "Sis?" Makoto called. "We're home, me and Yusuke. We really need to talk." There was no answer, and she frowned. "Maybe she's asleep?"

Yusuke shrugged and let Makoto head in the direction of Sae's bedroom. Sae had seemed ill before her outburst, and the psychic stress of the day was likely exhausting. He wandered towards the table where he had taken so many meals with the Niijimas. A manila envelope with his name on it in official-looking typeface sat on the edge. What could this be?

A...contract. For more money than he had ever had in his entire life. And even more money from Madarame. What was it that Sae had said? He was rich beyond the dreams of avarice. She had promised to restore everything that Madarame had taken from him, and she had kept that promise. A burning seized his lungs as tears formed in the corners of his eyes. "Oh, Sae."

Makoto screamed. Terror replaced grief and Yusuke bolted towards Sae's bedroom as fast as his legs could carry him. Sae herself sat on the edge of the bed, a broken glass of brandy at her feet. Her skin was pale, with a grayish tint. And her eyes…as dull and lifeless as Kamoshida or Madarame's. Only the shallow rise and fall of her chest reassured him that he wasn't looking at a corpse. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no." What had she done to herself?

"Sis!" Makoto rushed to her. "Wake up. You've got to wake up. I'm sorry I ran away. Please wake up."

She seized Sae by the shoulder and Sae thrashed as if she were in the grip some horrible nightmare. "Don't hurt me." Her voice was like that of a frightened child. "Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right. It's all right. I'd never hurt you." Makoto blinked back tears of her own. "It's like she can't even hear me. Did the brandy do this to her? I know she wasn't supposed to mix it with her pain—oh god."

Yusuke stood very still. He was tired of feeling inadequate, of impossibly large problem after impossibly large problem cascading down on him like a rock slide. Madarame's voice slithered in his mind. _She did this because of what you said to her and because you tried to take Makoto away. You may add murder to your list of corruptions._

"No," he said, but his voice sounded broken to his ears. "This doesn't look like it was caused by drugs."

"Then what is it?"

Sae writhed again. "You're right. I should have cashed out a long time ago."

"No, Sis. You've got to keep fi-" Makoto's head snapped up. "'Cashed out?' Isn't that a gambling term? You don't think she's stuck in her Palace somehow? Can alcohol and painkillers do that?"

"Morgana is the expert on the cognitive world, not me." And yet, Sae certainly sounded as if she were being tormented by something. Something far worse than what the Phantom Thieves did to people who deserved that torment far more. And whatever she had done or become, he loved her too much to wish her pain. "I don't think there's time to seek his aid. But if she is trapped in her own mind, there's only one way to assist." He took out his phone. "Not what our mystery man meant, but it must do."

"I'm coming with you. I wanted answers, but now I just want to save her. Please. Let me save her." She took out her own phone. "Sae Niijima. Prosecutor. World. Casino.

The world shifted and Yusuke prayed they were strong enough for what came next.

* * *

Sae wasn't sure how long she had been lying on the floor of the casino, how long her father and Yusuke and Makoto had tormented her with nails and kicks and whatever else. She thrashed weakly. "I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to fail any of you."

"That's a laugh," Makoto said with a cruel twist of her lips that she had never had in life. "You've been doing nothing but failing me for the last three years. You ignored me and then you called me a cancer. No loving sister would do that."

"You're not capable of love," Yusuke added. "Manipulating a lonely, abused boy."

It wasn't true, was it? She was better than what the demon thought she was. Some distant part of her whispered that it wasn't true. She loved her sister. Lashing out had been a horrible mistake that she would do anything to take back, but it wasn't who she was. She had been driven to madness by everything Kaneshiro had done to her. But the thoughts seemed distant as if they came from far away.

"You're going to have to choose," the Leviathan said. "Stop caring about the parasites and let go of your guilt, or be tormented by your failures forever. I know what I choose, what you really want to choose. You were willing to die to shut me up. I'll be quiet forever if you just accept that I'm the real you and your tormentors are holding you back."

She closed swollen eyes. It would be so simple. Just let the scraps of conscience go and let the demon ratify what was already true. Her heart had been burned in the fire, as crippled as her body. Makoto and Yusuke would be better off without her. And since she couldn't even seem to die properly, it was better to drive them away and embrace corruption to climb the ladder. She could spend the shadow of her life in luxury.

"That's right," Makoto said. "I'll be so much better off without you. I'll have friends and a good job and people who actually care about me instead of holding me back. Just let me go."

"Don't listen to her!"

Sae turned her head. Two familiar pairs of shoes filled her vision. It couldn't be. With what remained of her strength, she craned her neck upwards. Makoto and Yusuke stood on the roulette wheel. They wore the same school uniforms as the demons abusing her, but their eyes were filled with tears. "How?" she croaked. "What are you?"

Yusuke looked down at his school uniform in surprise. "Well, this is a complication. Are you quite sure you entered the information correctly?"

"I think so. But why aren't wearing our-didn't you say that we only changed if the target considered us a threat? I knew you weren't as bad as you seemed, Sis!"

Sae could only stare at the strange figments. "Change? Target? I must be losing my mind."

Yusuke and Makoto looked at each other. "My apologies," Yusuke said. "But this is your hallucination. We're manifestations of the better angels of your nature." He looked at her as if noticing her for the first time and blanched. "Are those bruises? What happened to you here?"

"Nothing more than what she deserves." Leviathan's eyes were like molten gold as she sneered. "Playing at justice while abusing her own family. She knows the only way to win is to play along with the rigged game. We're helping her decide what she is."

"And what are you?" Yusuke's eyes were hard. "Sae is elegance personified. You are...tawdry." He spat out the word as if it was something vile. "Are all Shadows devoid of taste?"

The Leviathan flinched as if Yusuke had slapped her. "Yusuke. I'm her. I'm everything she won't admit about herself. The entire world is rigged in favor of the powerful. The only way to succeed is to leave morality behind. Sentiment." Her voice was sad. "To stop pretending that a broken woman is capable of love. Leave. Let her be punished for her sins. Let Sae Niijima die so she can be reborn."

Makoto knelt before Sae. Her lip trembled and her eyes were soft, with no trace of the hatred that Sae deserved. " That's not true. You love me, and I love you. Yusuke loves you too."

The other Makoto snarled. "Liar! She smothered us for years. Kept hunting Kaneshiro a secret so we'd never know how dangerous the world really was. All she did was make sure Kaneshiro came after us while filling our heads with fairy stories about justice. And then she made us cry because she said something unforgivable. That isn't love. She deserves all this."

"She got me killed," her father added and kicked Sae in the ribs for good measure.

Makoto bolted up and tackled the half-man. "You're not Dad! Is that what you think, Sis? Kaneshiro killed Dad. Not you. I never blamed you. And I always knew that it was him deep down. I don't need you to protect me. You're not a monster. Stop torturing yourself."

Oh, if only all of that were true. "I called you a cancer. They're right. I deserve this."

"You're just really sick. I don't want you to hurt yourself." She knelt again and smoothed Sae's hair just as Sae had done for her when she was a child. "I want you to get help. You're so much better than these things think you are."

Sae shook her head. The Leviathan was right. That was who she really was. "The only thing that kept me going for the last three years was spite. You deserve a better role model." She caught Yusuke's gaze. "You were right about me. I had to let Leviathan in just to survive what Madarame did to me. I'm a hideous muse for you, just another monster who betrayed you trust."

Yusuke was quiet for a long time. Then he knelt beside Makoto. "It was childish of me to believe that the world can be divided between the virtuous and the evil. We all can be both. You showed me how much beauty and strength I had within myself. How can I not return the favor?" He held out his hand. "Leave this place and be healed. I love you."

"Even after all I've done?"

"Even so."

Sae inhaled and her lungs burned with the effort. Yusuke and Makoto loved her, and believed she loved them. That she could be, if not the Champion of Justice, at least someone they wanted in their lives. Her choices were more than hatred or death. All she had to do was take Yusuke's hand and try to get better. It seemed almost too good to be true. But if she really couldn't even kill herself properly...that foolish hope was better than the demon.

She took Yusuke's hand and let him draw her to her feet.

The Leviathan screamed. The walls of the casino seem to shake and the distant sound of slot machines fell silent. "I won't let you go. You're me and I'm you. Will they be so forgiving when they see what kind of monster we really are?" She laughed but it was a harsh, cold sound that Sae could never recall coming from her lips. Black smoke curled around her dress and face. Sae tried to look away, but the strength wouldn't come. She knew what would emerge.

The fiend knight was much as Sae remembered her. Rotting flesh hanging off her skin where the scars were in life. She towered over the roulette wheel, and this time Sae couldn't tell where her arms stopped and the sword began. "Look at me! Look upon the true face of the Champion of Justice. Still think I'm worth saving?"

Makoto blanched. "This is your true nature? No..."

"This is the woman you idolized, that you loved. I'm going to give you one last chance. Leave this place. Leave me to my darkness."

Yusuke stood up. He seemed older, like a warrior who had been battling psychic demons for years. "No. You want to be a better person. I've learned what a rare and precious commodity that is. You are so much better than your demons..." He gave her a weak smile. "Champion."

"Stop it! Stop it!" The demon rounded wildly between Sae, Yusuke, and Makoto, waving her sword arm frantically back towards the figments that had tormented Sae. "You're not real. These are my real family. I'll just have to kill you so I can move on!"

The ground shook once more as the demon lunged. Yusuke and Makoto jumped apart with a speed Sae would have believed impossible for them in the real world. Yusuke looked down again. "No weapons. No Persona. I rather wish you did consider us a threat at the moment."

This had to be the weirdest shoulder angel ever conjured, even by her standards. "What?"

"No time. Run!" Makoto grabbed Sae's arm and dragged her away as Leviathan and the others gave chase. There was pain in the dreamworld, duller and fainter than what she would have faced if she had even thought about running on physical legs, but Sae still hobbled and stumbled as they ran until the other two were all but carrying her. Leviathan seemed always just a half step behind them. Sae could almost feel the blade at her neck.

They ran down hallways and past elevators until they were on the main floor of the casino. Most of the players didn't even look up from their games, though a few of the more shabbily dressed ones paled and shivered as Leviathan passed. Too frightened to help even if they wanted to. Yusuke and Makoto were red with the exertion of carrying her, and the demons pants sent shivers down Sae's spine.

"You can't run forever. Weakling. As you are, you'll just get everyone killed."

Sae glanced at the sweat pouring down Makoto and Yusuke's faces. The demon was right. They couldn't carry her forever. Cold seized her. She didn't know how or why, but something terrible would happen to the Makoto and Yusuke she knew if the copies died in this world. "Stop. I'm the one she wants."

Makoto dragged her forward. "No. I'm not leaving you."

Sae jerked her hand away. "You're going to live. Promise me you're going to have a long and happy life crusading for justice. I'm sorry. You two are the best thing to happen to me. I love you." She turned to face the demon. "Do what you want with me, but let them go."

Leviathan froze. "You don't mean it. They're just going to lose their chips the same as anyone else. There's no point in suffering for them. We didn't even want this life."

"No. We didn't." The cold, the pain, all of it seemed very far away. She hadn't had a choice about how to face the firebomb, but she could endure her darker self's torments with some dignity. "I don't believe I can save the world anymore. The justice system is hopelessly corrupt. I don't even know why I survived as a burnt-out husk. And I certainly never wanted to be anyone's guardian." She took a deep breath. "You were right about all that. But I will never let the people I love be hurt on purpose. Even by me."

She closed her eyes and waited for the sword to fall.

It never did. Instead it clattered to the ground. Sae opened her eyes in surprise. Leviathan looked...different. Her armor was still black with spikes on the shoulders but the metal no longer dug into her flesh. She held an arming sword in one hand and a revolver and the other. And it was Sae's own face, pink, raised scars and all, staring back at her. "Well done."

Sae blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Finally acknowledging the resentments that created me. I am thou. Thou art I."

"But everything you said about not loving Makoto and cutting myself off..."

"Is what you're tempted to do in the dark of night. The first step to changing is acknowledging what needs to change." She nodded to Yusuke. "I can't believe in justice, but I can believe in all the good things you showed me. If you can forgive me in the other world, maybe there's hope after all."

Yusuke bowed. "If my pale artistic creations can bring you hope, then perhaps one day I will truly be my mother's equal."

The Leviathan managed a half smile. "I almost wish that the other me was really here. Then we could fight the war that's coming. But as it is, I think it's time for you to return to your proper worlds." She put a hand on Sae's shoulder. "Wake up."

Sae's eyes snapped open. She was sprawled out on her bed. Her bed, with no trace of the casino. Every inch of her body hurt, and her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. Yusuke and Makoto stood over her with worried looks on her faces. "What, but you were-"

"Shh. Don't try to talk." Makoto sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Sae's hair just as the one in the casino had. "Yusuke brought me home, and we were so worried when we found you like this and I couldn't wake you. We're going to call a doctor to make sure you're all right. Yusuke knows one in Yongen."

"Thank you," she managed. "I'm so sorry about the things I said. Can you ever forgive me? "

"Of course I forgive you. You're my sister. I love you." She pursed her lips together. "But I think you need help. And when you're ready, we need to talk about the day Dad died."

Sae nodded, accepting. Resolutions made in the dreamworld were useless unless they were followed through in reality. And perhaps telling the truth would allow some of her other wounds to heal. She took Makoto's hand and squeezed. "Anything I need to do to make you feel safe."

"Thank you." Makoto kissed her forehead and stood. "All that can wait. Rest now."

She slipped from the room, leaving Sae alone with Yusuke. He didn't quite look at her, and the cotton in Sae's mouth wasn't the only thing that made it difficult to speak. Makoto had forgiven her, but Makoto had had stars in her eyes about her since elementary school and was naturally trusting. Yusuke had been the one full of deserved moral outrage. She wouldn't blame him if this was the last they ever saw of each other. At least he would be provided for.

"I'm no good with these matters," he said at last. "But I think I may have acted rashly. You aren't Madarame. I swear to you that I'll do everything I can to help you get better."

"You will?"

"Of course I will." He smiled and came to her. "Isn't that what it means to be in love?"

Sae's eyes blurred as she forced herself into a sitting position so she could kiss him. She hadn't lost everything. She was going to get treatment like Akechi wanted. And she would find a way to end Kaneshiro. The Champion of Justice might be dead, but Sae Niijima's life was just beginning.


	17. Epilogue

"In tonight's top story, prosecutors arrested what is a they say is a major yakuza figure. Junya Kaneshiro is alleged to be the mastermind behind a major drug and prostitution ring. In a shocking twist, when confronted by police he immediately confessed to the attempted murder of the presiding prosecutor, Sae Niijima, three years ago. Ms. Niijima..."

"Three cheers for prosecutor!" Ryuji raised his cup of coffee. "I hope they hang him or set him on fire or something."

"I would chastise you for your bloodthirstiness, but I share the sentiment, Yusuke said." Thieves, prosecutor, and Detective Prince filled the booths at Leblanc in an impromptu celebration. Not as intimate as what the others had managed for him after Madarame confessed, but it would do. And there was a certain fittingness in a low-key celebration when the rest of the world would never know that the Phantom Thieves had discreetly sent Kaneshiro a calling card.

"That won't be for a long time. He'll get a trial like everyone else. My director wasn't pleased that I had to hand it off to Organized Crime." Sae sipped her coffee and looked between Yusuke and Makoto. "Are all your friends so...passionate?"

"One grows accustomed to it. And you did want to meet them, after all. They were there for me when no one else was after I found out what Madarame had done."

"We throwaways have to stick together." Akira pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Though I'm not sure that Ms. Niijima counts as a throwaway. Makoto told me about the cameras."

Ah yes, the cameras. Kaneshiro's downfall at the hands of the very woman he had once tried to murder had created a sensation. She had barely been able to use the train for all the reporters. Nemesis, Avenging Angel, the Phoenix Prosecutor, the sobriquets were already raining down. "Only restoring a bit of what she lost."

"I'll have to be on my toes," Akechi called from his perch at the far end of the bar. "The Detective Prince at last has competition. I'm happy for you, Sae." He frowned. "Though I did find it rather curious that he confessed the moment you showed up. I wonder..."

"You wonder a lot. Just try to enjoy the party." Akira bent so that only Yusuke could hear him. "I wonder a lot of things too. Who's the Black Mask? And who sent me that message?"

"Perhaps you're right,"Akechi said with a sheepish smile. "I'm unaccustomed to socializing with my peer group. Perhaps these meetings could become typical? This coffee shop is as good as Sae said."

Yusuke wasn't sure how long he sat simply letting the conversation wash over him. Madarame's defeat had caused him as much grief as joy, but this time a warm conviviality filled him. He was surrounded by those he cared for and who he cared for in return. Those he more than cared for. Sae sat next to him, the side of her hand brushing against his own the only visible sign that they were anything other than model and artist. The incident with her Shadow had left no physical mark on her, though she seemed to sit a little straighter and the fire in her eyes that had so entranced him burned a little brighter.

"Akira and I should go," Makoto said at last. "I promised I would help him study for his exams."

"I had really hoped that you had forgotten that." But Akira smiled when he said it.

Sae's gaze flickered in surprise. "You didn't mention this."

"Everything's been so busy with...everything that I suppose I forgot." She looked suddenly uncertain. "That's all right, isn't it?"

"Of course it's all right. You're helping someone and spending time with a friend. I don't expect you to spend all your time cramming for the entrance exam." Sae thought for a moment. "As long as you still do well. Besides, I have something I want to do at the apartment tonight."

She didn't look at him, but Yusuke felt the heat creep across his cheeks. Sae was going to pose for him, nude. His skin tingled, less with the anticipation of seeing someone he loved in such an intimate, erotic fashion than the anticipation and anxiety of creation. His gaze found _Sayuri._ Please, let whatever gods of art that were listening allow him to create something that approached the beauty of that piece and that was worthy of his subject.

Eventually, the coffees were drained and there was no more delaying the moment. "May I see you home, Ms. Niijima?"

They departed to knowing looks from his friends and a speculative one from Sakura. It was a warm sunny day, as if nature itself wanted to celebrate Sae's triumph. Even the crowds seemed less oppressive as they ambled down the sidewalk. "Your friends really are quite passionate," Sae said at last. "Not what I imagined. It'll take some getting used to."

"You don't like them?"

"I like anyone who supported you when I couldn't. And I of all people know that you shouldn't judge by appearances. All those people who said I'd never be a good prosecutor again. It feels good to be vindicated." She bowed her head. "And to get justice for Dad."

Yusuke could only squeeze her hand.

"And now maybe I can focus on the future," she continued. "No way is Kaneshiro the mastermind for this conspiracy. And I may not be a crusader anymore, but someone needs to stop this. Akechi thinks the Phantom Thieves are in on it."

"Oh?" Just what they needed. Ah well, it couldn't be helped and perhaps their own investigations in the Metaverse would uncover the identity of Black Mask and his masters.

"I'm not sure I believe it. Why the three-year gap between the shutdowns starting and their arrival. Something doesn't add up." She shook her head. "I'd still like to interview them, find out how they do what they do. And I'm sure I'll have to press charges—right after I buy them dinner for saving you."

"Perhaps they'll reveal themselves someday." Later, he promised himself. When Sae had had more than one or two therapy sessions and when he could give her answers. It would all work out in the end. They had been through too much for it not to.

The tingling grew as they entered the apartment. Sae closed the door behind them, but neither of them made a move toward either her couch or the bedroom where his painting supplies had already been set up. He felt as if he had been asked to paint in an entirely new style he had seen only in books and every moment help the terror of doing or saying the wrong thing. "Are you in much pain?" he asked.

"No." Her smile was tentative. "The new pain medication Takemi put me on is working wonderfully."

"Good, good." He looked around the apartment as if the furniture would reveal the next conversational step. "Are you ready? That is, do you mind if we begin? Oh, sorry, I should be more reassuring, shouldn't I?"

"You're fine. You've always been fine, Yusuke." She kissed him lightly, but when she pulled back, her expression was serious. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be. If you still want to do this."

Yusuke nodded before he lost his nerve and followed her to the bedroom. He busied himself with last minute checks to the canvas and paint as Sae went to the bathroom to prepare. Everything would be fine. Painting a nude was an important point in his development, and Sae had agreed and they loved each other and why was he sweating?

Sae emerged after what felt like an eternity, wearing a silk robe and looking almost as nervous as he was. She was still the loveliest thing Yusuke had ever seen, an empress lounging after a long day seeing to the affairs of state. "Judging by your reaction, I should be glad that I didn't throw this away." She shook her hair loose and it cascaded down her shoulders in a way that begged him to play with it. Her gaze flickered as she put a hand on the top on the tie. "I want you to be prepared. The scarring on my leg? It's bad. Revolting. Benjiro couldn't take it."

"It's part of you." What else was there to say? He had been a foolish artist, demanding that the beauty and ugliness world be entirely separate when they were inextricably linked in every human heart. Sae had taught him that much, and he would endure any sight for her sake.

She smiled at him, took a deep breath and began. Yusuke took a deep breath of his own. The scars of her face extended down her body, raised and pink reminders of what the world had tried to do to her. The other side was perfectly formed porcelain perfection. All of it was her. He wanted to touch, squeeze, caress, explore. But that would be for later. She sat on the edge of the bed and, with an agonizing slowness, removed her brace.

Yusuke paled. It was aesthetically hideous, there was no denying that. The limb had been twisted and mangled almost beyond recognition. Scars and sores covered her skin. It was something that belonged in a medical textbook or on a corpse donated to science, not a living human being.

They looked at each other. Pain flashed across her eyes. Yusuke forced himself to breathe. The leg was on a living human being, the woman he loved more than anything else in the world. "You're beautiful," he said and meant it. He kissed her. "Shall we begin?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all, folks. This fic has been a passion project of mine for a long time. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.


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